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L j/L  /iP~' 


HYPATIA 


OR 


NEW  FOES  WITH  AN  OLD  FACE 


A NOVEL 


BY 

CHARLES  KINGSLEY,  F.S.A.,  F.L.S. 

AUTHOR  OF  “ALTON  LOCKE,"1  “YEAST,11  “ AT  LAST,”  ETC. 


BOSTON  COU.EGC  UBRARY 
CHESTNUT  HILL,  MASS. 


NEW  YORK 

JOHN  W.  LOVELL  COMPANY 

150  Worth  Street 


PR 

Hev*- 
. m 


TROW’S 

PRINTING  AND  BOOKBINDING  COMPANY, 
NEW  YORK. 


i oxoo 


DEDICATION. 


TO  MY  FATHER  AND  MY  MOTHER. 

My  dear  Parents, 

When  you  shall  have  read  this  book,  and  considered  the  view  of 
human  relationship  which  is  set  forth  in  it,  you  will  be  at  no  loss  to  dis- 
cover why  I have  dedicated  it  to  you,  as  one  paltry  witness  of  an  union 
and  of  a debt  which,  though  they  may  seem  to  have  begun  with  birth, 
and  to  have  grown  with  your  most  loving  education,  yet  cannot  die  with 
death  : but  are  spiritual,  indefeasible,  eternal  in  the  heavens  with  that 
God  from  whom  every  fatherhood  in  heaven  and  earth  is  named. 


PREFACE. 


A picture  of  life  in  the  fifth  century  must  needs 
contain  much  which  will  he  painful  to  any  reader,  and 
which  the  young-  and  innocent  will  do  well  to  leave  al- 
together unread.  It  has  to  represent  a very  hideous, 
though  a very  great,  age;  one  of  those  critical  and 
cardinal  eras  in  the  history  of  the  human  race,  in 
which  virtues  and  vices  manifest  themselves  side  by 
side  — even,  at  times,  in  the  same  person  — with  the 
most  startling  openness  and  power.  One  who  writes 
of  such  an  era  labors  under  a troublesome  disadvan- 
tage. He  dare  not  tell  how  evil  people  were;  he  will 
not  be  believed  if  he  tells  how  good  they  were.  In  the 
present  case  that  disadvantage  is  doubled,  for  while 
the  sins  of  the  Church,  however  heinous,  were  still  such 
as  admit  of  being  expressed  in  words,  the  sins  of  the 
heathen  world,  against  which  she  fought,  were  utterly 
indescribable,  and  the  Christian  apologist  is  thus  com- 
pelled, for  the  sake  of  decency,  to  state  the  Church’s 
case  far  more  weakly  than  the  facts  deserve. 

Not,  be  it  ever  remembered,  that  the  slightest  sus- 
picion of  immorality  attaches  either  to  the  heroine  of 
this  book,  or  to  the  leading  philosophers  of  her  school, 
for  several  centuries.  Howsoever  base  and  profligate 
their  disciples,  or  the  Manichees,  may  have  been,  the 


6 


PREFACE. 


great  Neo-Platonists  were,  as  Manes  himself  was,  per- 
sons of  the  most  rigid  and  ascetic  virtue. 

For  a time  had  arrived,  in  which  no  teacher  who  did 
not  put  forth  the  most  lofty  pretensions  to  righteous- 
ness could  expect  a hearing.  That  Divine  Word  who 
is,  “ The  Light  who  liglitetli  every  man  which  cometli 
into  the  world,”  had  awakened  in  the  heart  of  man- 
kind a moral  craving  never  before  felt  in  any  strength, 
except  by  a few  isolated  philosophers  or  prophets. 
The  spirit  had  been  poured  out  on  all  flesh;  and  from 
one  end  of  the  Empire  to  the  other,  from  the  slave  in 
the  mill  to  the  emperor  on  his  throne,  all  hearts  were 
either  hungering  and  thirsting  after  righteousness,  or 
learning  to  do  homage  to  those  who  did  so.  And  He 
who  excited  the  craving  was  also  furnishing  that 
which  would  satisfy  it;  and  was  teaching  mankind,  by 
a long  and  painful  education,  to  distinguish  the  truth 
from  its  innumerable  counterfeits,  and  to  find,  for  the 
first  time  in  the  world’s  life,  a good  news  not  merely 
for  the  select  few,  but  for  all  mankind  without  respect 
of  rank  or  race. 

For  somewhat  more  than  four  hundred  years  the 
Roman  Empire  and  the  Christian  Church,  born  into  the 
world  almost  at  the  same  moment,  had  been  develop- 
ing themselves  side  by  side  as  two  great  rival  powers, 
in  deadly  struggle  for  the  possession  of  the  human  race. 
The  weapons  of  the  Empire  had  been  not  merely  an 
overwhelming  physical  force,  and  a ruthless  lust  of 
aggressive  conquest : but,  even  more  powerful  still,  an 
unequalled  genius  for  organization,  and  an  uniform 
system  of  external  law  and  order.  This  was  generally 
a real  boon  to  conquered  nations,  because  it  consti- 
tuted a fixed  and  regular  spoliation  for  the  fortuitous 
and  arbitrary  miseries  of  savage  warfare:  but  it  ar- 
rayed, meanwhile,  on  the  side  of  the  Empire  the 


PREFACE. 


/ 

wealthier  citizens  of  every  province,  by  allowing*  them 
their  share  in  the  plunder  of  the  laboring  masses  be- 
low them.  These,  in  the  country  districts,  were  ut- 
terly enslaved;  while  in  the  cities,  nominal  freedom 
was  of  little  use  to  masses  kept  from  starvation  by 
the  alms  of  the  government,  and  drugged  into  brutish 
good-humor  by  a vast  system  of  public  spectacles,  in 
which  the  realms  of  nature  and  of  art  were  ransacked 
to  glut  the  wonder,  lust,  and  ferocity  of  a degraded 
populace. 

Against  this  vast  organization  the  Church  had  been 
fighting  for  now  four  hundred  years,  armed  only  with 
its  own  mighty  and  all-embracing  message,  and  with 
the  manifestation  of  a spirit  of  purity  and  virtue,  of 
love  and  self-sacrifice,  which  had  proved  itself  mightier 
to  melt  and  weld  together  the  hearts  of  men,  than  all 
the  force  and  terror,  all  the  mechanical  organization, 
all  the  sensual  baits  with  which  the  Empire  had  been 
contending  against  that  Gospel  in  which  it  had  recog- 
nized instinctively  and  at  first  sight,  its  internecine  foe. 

And  now  the  Church  had  conquered.  The  weak 
things  of  this  world  had  confounded  the  strong.  In 
spite  of  the  devilish  cruelties  of  persecutors;  in  spite  of 
the  contaminating  atmosphere  of  sin  which  surrounded 
her;  in  spite  of  having  to  form  herself,  not  out  of  a 
race  of  pure  and  separate  creatures,  but  by  a most 
literal  “ new  birth  ” out  of  those  very  fallen  masses  who 
insulted  and  persecuted  her;  in  spite  of  having  to  en- 
dure within  herself  continual  outbursts  of  the  evil  pas- 
sions in  which  her  members  had  once  indulged  without 
check;  in  spite  of  a thousand  counterfeits  which 
sprang  up  around  her  and  within  her,  claiming  to  be 
parts  of  her,  and  alluring  men  to  themselves  by  that 
very  exclusiveness  and  party  arrogance  which  dis- 
proved their  claim;  in  spite  of  all  she  had  conquered. 


8 


PREFACE. 


The  very  emperors  had  arrayed  themselves  on  her 
side.  Julian's  last  attempt  to  restore  paganism  by 
imperial  influences  had  only  proved  that  the  old  faith 
had  lost  all  hold  upon  the  hearts  of  the  masses;  at  his 
death  the  great  tide  wave  of  new  opinion  rolled  on 
unchecked,  and  the  rulers  of  earth  were  fain  to  swim 
with  the  stream;  to  accept,  in  words  at  least,  the 
Church’s  laws  as  theirs;  to  acknowledge  a King  of 
kings  to  whom  even  they  owed  homage  and  obedieiice ; 
and  to  call  their  own  slaves  their  “ poorer  brethren,” 
and  often,  too,  their  “ spiritual  superiors.” 

But  if  the  emperors  had  become  Christian,  the  Em- 
pire had  not.  Here  and  there  an  abuse  was  lopped 
off ; or  an  edict  was  passed  for  the  visitation  of  prisons 
and  for  the  welfare  of  prisoners;  or  a Theodosius  was 
recalled  to  justice  and  humanity  for  awhile  by  the 
stern  rebukes  of  an  Ambrose.  But  the  Empire  was 
still  the  same:  still  a great  tyranny,  enslaving  the 
masses;  crushing  national  life;  fattening  itself  and  its 
officials  on  a system  of  world-wide  robbery;  and,  while 
it  was  paramount,  there  could  be  no  hope  for  the 
human  race.  Nay,  there  were  even  those  among  the 
Christians  who  saw,  like  Dante  afterward  in  the  “ fatal 
gift  of  Constantine,”  and  the  truce  between  the 
Church  and  the  Empire,  fresh  and  more  deadly  dan- 
ger. Was  not  the  Empire  trying  to  extend  over  the 
Church  itself  that  upas  shadow  with  which  it  had 
withered  up  every  other  form  of  human  existence;  to 
make  her,  too,  its  stipendiary  slave  official,  to  be  pam- 
pered when  obedient,  and  scourged  whenever  she  dare 
assert  a free  will  of  her  own,  a law  beyond  that  of  her 
tyrants;  to  throw  on  her,  by  refined  hypocrisy,  the 
care  and  support  of  the  masses  on  whose  life  blood  it 
was  feeding  ? So  thought  many  then,  and,  as  I be- 
lieve, not  unwisely. 


PREFACE. 


9 


But  if  the  social  condition  of  the  civilized  world  was 
anomalous  at  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century,  its 
spiritual  state  was  still  more  so.  The  universalfusion 
of  races,  languages,  and  customs,  which  had  gone  on 
for  four  centuries  under  the  Roman  rule,  had  produceu 
a corresponding  fusion  of  creeds,  an  universal  fer- 
mentation of  human  thought  and  faith.  All  honest 
belief  in  the  old  local  superstitions  of  paganism  had 
been  long  dying  out  before  the  more  palpable  and  ma- 
terial idolatry  of  Emperor  worship,  and  the  gods  of 
the  nations,  unable  to  deliver  those  who  had  trusted 
in  them,  became  one  by  one  the  vassals  of  the  “ Divus 
Caesar,”  neglected  by  the  philosophic  rich  and  only 
worshipped  by  the  lower  classes,  where  the  old  rites 
still  pandered  to  their  grosser  appetites  or  subserved 
the  wealth  and  importance  of  some  particular  locality. 

In  the  mean  while,  the  minds  of  men,  cut  adrift  from 
their  ancient  moorings,  wandered  wildly  over  pathless 
seas  of  speculative  doubt,  and  especially  in  the  more 
metaphysical  and  contemplative  East,  attempted  to 
solve  for  themselves  the  question  of  man’s  relation  to 
the  unseen  by  those  thousand  schisms,  heresies,  and 
theosophies  (it  is  a disgrace  to  the  word  philosophy  to 
call  them  by  it),  on  the  records  of  which  the  student 
now  gazes  bewildered,  unable  alike  to  count  or  to  ex- 
plain their  fantasies. 

Yet  even  these,  like  every  outburst  of  free  human 
thought,  had  their  use  and  their  fruit.  They  brought 
before  the  minds  of  churchmen  a thousand  new  ques- 
tions which  must  be  solved,  unless  the  Church  was  to 
relinquish  forever  her  claims  as  the  grand  teacher  and 
satisfier  of  the  human  soul.  To  study  these  bubbles, 
as  they  formed  and  burst  on  every  wave  of  human 
life;  to  feel,  too  often  by  sad  experience,  as  Augustine 
felt,  the  charm  of  their  allurements;  to  divide  the 


10 


PREFACE. 


truths  at  which  they  aimed  from  the  falsehood  which 
they  offered  as  its  substitute;  to  exhibit  the  Catholic 
Church  as  possessing',  in  the  great  facts  which  she 
proclaimed,  full  satisfaction,  even  for  the  most  subtle 
metaphysical  cravings  of  a diseased  age; — that  was 
the  work  of  the  time;  and  men  were  sent  to  do  it,  and 
aided  in  their  labor  by  the  very  causes  which  had  pro- 
duced the  intellectual  revolution.  The  general  inter- 
mixture of  ideas,  creeds,  and  races,  even  the  mere  phy- 
sical facilities  for  intercourse  between  different  parts 
of  the  Empire,  helped  to  give  the  great  Christian 
fathers  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  a breadth  of 
observation,  a depth  of  thought,  a large-hearted  and 
large-minded  patience  and  tolerance,  such  as  we  may 
say  boldly,  the  Church  has  since  beheld  but  rarely, 
and  the  world  never;  at  least,  if  we  are  to  judge  those 
great  men  by  what  they  had,  and  not  by  what  they 
had  not,  and  to  believe,  as  we  are  bound,  that  had 
they  lived  now,  and  not  then,  they  would  have  towered 
as  far  above  the  heads  of  this  generation  as  they  did 
above  the  heads  of  their  own.  And  thus  an  age 
which,  to  the  shallow  insight  of  a sneerer  like  Gibbon, 
seems  only  a rotting  and  aimless  chaos  of  sensuality 
and  anarchy,  fanaticism  and  hypocrisy,  produced  a 
Clement  and  an  Athanase,  a Chrysostom  and  an 
Augustine;  absorbed  into  the  sphere  of  Christianity 
all  which  was  most  valuable  in  the  philosophies  of 
Greece  and  Egypt,  and  in  the  social  organization  of 
Rome,  as  an  heirloom  for  nations  yet  unborn;  and  laid 
in  foreign  lands,  by  unconscious  agents,  the  founda- 
tions of  all  European  thought  and  Ethics. 

But  the  health  of  a Church  depends  not  merely  on 
the  creed  which  it  professes,  not  even  on  the  wisdom 
and  holiness  of  a few  great  ecclesiastics,  but  on  the 
faith  and  virtue  of  its  individual  members.  The  mens 


PREFACE. 


11 


Sana  must  have  a corpus  sanum  to  inhabit.  And  even 
for  the  Western  Church,  the  lofty  future  which  was 
in  store  for  it  would  have  been  impossible,  without 
some  infusion  of  new  and  healthier  blood  into  the  veins 
of  a world  drained  and  tainted  by  the  influence  of 
Rome. 

And  the  new  blood,  at  the  era  of  this  story,  was  at 
hand.  The  great  tide  of  those  Gothic  nations,  of 
which  the  Norwegian  and  the  German  are  the  purest 
remaining  types,  though  every  nation  of  Europe,  from 
Gibraltar  to  St.  Petersburg,  owes  to  them  the  most 
precious  elements  of  strength,  was  sweeping  onward, 
wave  over  wave,  in  a steady  southwestern  current 
across  the  whole  Roman  territory,  and  only  stopping 
and  recoiling  when  it  reached  the  shores  of  the  Medi- 
terranean. Those  wild  tribes  were  bringing  with  them 
into  the  magic  circle  of  the  Western  ChurclTs  influ- 
ence the  very  materials  which  she  required  for  the 
building  up  of  a future  Christendom,  and  which  she 
could  find  as  little  in  the  Western  Empire,  as  in  the 
Eastern;  comparative  purity  of  morals;  sacred  re- 
spect for  woman,  for  family  life,  law,  equal  justice,  in- 
dividual freedom,  and,  above  all,  for  honesty  in  word 
and  deed ; bodies  untainted  by  hereditary  effeminacy, 
hearts  earnest  though  genial,  and  blest  with  a strange 
willingness  to  learn,  even  from  those  whom  they  de- 
spised ; a brain  equal  to  that  of  the  Roman  in  practical 
power,  and  not  too  far  behind  that  of  the  Eastern  in 
imaginative  and  speculative  acuteness. 

And  their  strength  was  felt  at  once.  Their  van- 
guard, confined  with  difficulty  for  three  centuries  be- 
yond the  Eastern  Alps,  at  the  expense  of  sanguinary 
wars,  had  been  adopted,  wherever  it  was  practicable, 
into  the  service  of  the  Empire ; and  the  heart’s  core  of 
the  Roman  legion  was  composed  of  Gothic  officers  and 


12 


PREFACE. 


soldiers.  But  now  the  main  body  had  arrived.  Tribe 
after  tribe  was  crowding'  down  to  the  Alps,  and 
trampling  upon  each  other  on  the  frontiers  of  the  Em- 
pire. The  Huns,  singly  their  inferiors,  pressed  them 
from  behind  with  the  irresistible  weight  of  numbers; 
Italy,  with  her  rich  cities  and  fertile  lowlands, 
beckoned  them  on  to  plunder;  as  auxiliaries,  they  had 
learned  their  own  strength  and  Homan  weakness;  a 
casus  belli  was  soon  found.  How  iniquitous  was  the 
conduct  of  the  sons  of  Theodosius,  in  refusing*  the 
usual  bounty,  by  which  the  Goths  were  bribed  not  to 
attack  the  Empire! — The  whole  pent-up  deluge  burst 
over  the  plains  of  Italy,  and  the  Western  Empire  be- 
came from  that  day  forth  a dying  idiot,  while  the  new 
invaders  divided  Europe  among  themselves.  The  fif- 
teen years  before  the  time  of  this  tale  had  decided 
the  fate  of  Greece;  the  last  four  that  of  Rome  itself. 
The  countless  treasures  which  five  centuries  of  rapine 
had  accumulated  round  the  Capitol,  had  become  the 
prey  of  men  clothed  in  sheepskin  and  horsehide;  and 
the  sister  of  an  emperor  had  found  her  beauty,  virtue, 
and  pride  of  race,  worthily  matched  by  those  of  the 
hard-handed  Northern  hero  who  led  her  away  from 
Italy  as  his  captive  and  his  bride,  to  found  new  king- 
doms in  South  France  and  Spain,  and  to  drive  the 
newly-arrived  Vandals  across  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar 
into  the  then  blooming  coastland  of  Northern  Africa. 
Everywhere  the  mangled  limbs  of  the  Old  World  were 
seething  in  the  Medea’s  caldron,  to  come  forth  whole, 
and  young,  and  strong.  The  Longbeards,  noblest  of 
their  race,  had  found  a temporary  resting-place  upon 
the  Austrian  frontier,  after  long  southward  wander- 
ings from  the  Swedish  mountains,  soon  to  be  dispos- 
sessed again  by  the  advancing  Huns,  and,  crossing  the 
Alps,  to  give  their  name  forever  to  the  plains  of  Lonu 


PREFACE. 


13 


bardy.  A few  more  tumultuous  years,  and  the  Franks 
would  find  themselves  lords  of  the  Lower  Rhineland; 
and  before  the  hairs  of  Hypatia’s  scholars  had  grown 
gray,  the  mythic  Hengst  and  Horsa  would  have 
landed  on  the  shores  of  Kent  and  an  English  nation 
have  begun  its  world-wide  life. 

But  some  great  Providence  forbade  to  our  race,  tri- 
umphant in  every  other  quarter,  a footing  beyond  the 
Mediterranean,  or  even  in  Constantinople,  which  to 
this  day  preserves  in  Europe  the  faith  and  manners  of 
Asia.  The  Eastern  World  seemed  barred,  by  some 
stern  doom,  from  the  only  influence  which  could  have 
regenerated  it.  Every  attempt  of  the  Gothic  races  to 
establish  themselves  beyond  the  sea,  whether  in  the 
form  of  an  organized  kingdom,  as  the  Vandals  at- 
tempted in  Africa ; or  of  a mere  band  of  brigands,  as 
did  the  Goths  in  Asia  Minor,  under  Gainas ; or  of  prae- 
torian guard,  as  did  the  Varangens  of  the  middle  age, 
or  as  religious  invaders,  as  did  the  Crusaders,  ended 
only  in  the  corruption  and  disappearance  of  the  colo- 
nists. That  extraordinary  reform  in  morals,  which,  ac- 
cording to  Salvian  and  his  contemporaries,  the  Vandal 
conquerors  worked  in  North  Africa,  availed  them 
nothing;  they  lost  more  than  they  gave.  Climate, 
bad  example,  and  the  luxury  of  power,  degraded  them 
in  one  century  into  a race  of  helpless  and  debauched 
slaveholders,  doomed  to  utter  extermination  before  the 
semi-Gothic  armies  of  Belisarius;  and  with  them  van- 
ished the  last  chance  that  the  Gothic  race  would  exer- 
cise, on  the  Eastern  World  the  same  stern  yet  whole- 
some discipline  under  which  the  Western  had  been  re- 
stored to  life. 

The  Egyptian  and  Syrian  Churches,  therefore,  were 
destined  to  labor  not  for  themselves,  but  for  us.  The 
signs  of  disease  and  decrepitude  were  already  but  too 


14 


PREFACE. 


manifest  in  them.  That  very  peculiar  turn  in  the 
Gragco-Eastern  mind  which  made  them  the  great 
thinkers  of  the  then  world  had  the  effect  of  drawing 
them  away  from  practice  to  speculation;  and  the  races 
of  Egypt  and  Syria  were  effeminate,  over-civilized,  ex- 
hausted by  centuries  during  which  no  infusion  of  fresh 
blood  had  come  to  renew  the  stock.  Morbid,  self- 
conscious,  physically  indolent,  incapable  then,  as  now, 
of  personal  or  political  freedom,  they  afforded  material 
out  of  which  fanatic  might  easily  be  made,  but  not 
citizens  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  The  very  ideas  of 
family  and  national  life — those  two  divine  roots  of  the 
Church,  severed  from  which  she  is  certain  to  wither 
away  into  that  most  godless  and  most  cruel  of  spec- 
tres, a religious  world — had  perished  in  the  East  from 
the  evil  influence  of  the  universal  practice  of  slave- 
holding, as  well  as  from  the  degradation  of  that  Jew- 
ish nation  which  had  been  for  ages  the  great  witness 
for  those  ideas;  and  all  classes,  like  their  forefather 
Adam — like,  indeed,  “ the  old  Adam  ” in  every  man  and 
every  age — were  shifting  the  blame  of  sin  from  their 
own  consciences  to  human  relationships  and  duties — 
and  therein,  to  the  God  who  had  appointed  them;  and 
saying  as  of  old,  “ The  woman  whom  thou  gavest  to  be 
with  me,  she  gave  me  of  the  tree,  and  I did  eat/'  The 
passionate  Eastern  character,  like  all  weak  ones,  found 
total  abstinence  easier  than  temperance,  religious 
thought  more  pleasant  than  godly  action;  and  a mon- 
astic world  grew  up  all  over  the  East,  of  such  vastness 
that  in  Egypt  it  was  said  to  rival  in  numbers  the  lay 
population,  producing,  with  an  enormous  decrease  in 
the  actual  amount  of  moral  evil,  an  equally  great  en- 
ervation and  decrease  of  the  population.  Such  a 
people  could  offer  no  resistance  to  the  steadily  increas- 
ing tyranny  of  the  Eastern  Empire.  In  vain  did  such 


PREFACE. 


15 


men  as  Chrysostom  and  Basil  oppose  their  personal 
influence  to  the  hideous  intrigues  and  villainies  of  the 
Byzantine  court;  the  ever  downward  career  of  East- 
ern Christianity  went  on  unchecked  for  two  more  mis- 
erable centuries,  side  by  side  with  the  upward  devel- 
opment of  the  Western  Church;  and,  while  the  suc- 
cessors of  the  great  Saint  Gregory  were  converting 
and  civilizing  a new-born  Europe,  the  Churches  of 
the  East  were  vanishing  before  Mohammedan  inva- 
ders, strong  by  living  trust  in  that  living  God,  whom 
the  Christians,  while  they  hated  and  persecuted  each 
other  for  arguments  about  Him,  were  denying  and 
blaspheming  in  every  action  of  their  lives. 

But  at  the  period  whereof  this  story  treats,  the 
Graeco-Eastern  mind  was  still  in  the  middle  of  its 
great  work.  That  wonderful  metaphysic  subtlety, 
which  in  phrases  and  definitions  too  often  unmeaning 
to  our  grosser  intellect,  saw  the  symbols  of  the  most 
important  spiritual  realities,  and  felt  that  on  the  dis- 
tinction between  homoousios  and  homoiousios  might 
hang  the  solution  of  the  whole  problem  of  humanity, 
was  set  to  battle  in  Alexandria,  the  ancient  stronghold 
of  Greek  philosophy,  with  the  effete  remains  of  the 
very  scientific  thought  to  which  it  owed  its  extraor- 
dinary culture.  Monastic  isolation  from  family  and 
national  duties  especially  fitted  the  fathers  of  that 
period  for  the  task,  by  giving  them  leisure,  if  nothing 
else,  to  face  questions  with  a lifelong  earnestness  im- 
possible to  the  more  social  and  practical  Northern 
mind.  Our  duty  is,  instead  of  sneering  at  them  as 
pedantic  dreamers,  to  thank  Heaven  that  men  were 
found,  just  at  the  time  when  they  were  wanted,  to  do 
for  us  what  we  could  never  have  done  for  ourselves; 
to  leave  to  us,  as  a precious  heirloom,  bought  most 
truly  with  the  life  blood  of  their  race,  a metaphysic  at 


16 


PKEEACE. 


once  Christian  and  scientific,  every  attempt  to  im- 
prove on  which  has  hitherto  been  found  a failure,  and 
to  battle  victoriously  with  that  strange  brood  of  the- 
oretic monsters  begotten  by  effete  Greek  philosophy 
upon  Eygptian  symbolism,  Chaldee  astrology,  Parsee 
dualism,  Brahminic  spiritualism — graceful  and  gorge- 
ous phantoms,  whereof  somewhat  more  will  be  said 
in  the  coining  chapters. 

I have  in  my  sketch  of  Hypatia  and  her  fate,  closely 
followed  authentic  history,  especially  Socrates*  account 
of  the  closing  scenes,  as  given  in  Book  vii.,  § 15,  of  his 
“ Ecclesiastical  History.**  I am  inclined,  however,  for 
various  historical  reasons,  to  date  her  death  two  years 
earlier  than  he  does.  The  tradition  that  she  was  the 
wife  of  Isidore,  the  philosopher,  I reject,  with  Gibbon, 
as  a palpable  anachronism  of  at  least  fifty  years  (Isi- 
dore*s  master,  Proclus,  not  having  been  born  till  the 
year  before  Hypatia’s  death),  contradicted,  moreover, 
by  the  very  author  of  it,  Photius,  who  says  distinctly, 
after  comparing  Hypatia  and  Isidore,  that  Isidore, 
married  a certain  “ Domna.**  Ho  hint,  moreover,  of 
her  having  been  married,  appears  in  any  contempo- 
rary authors;  and  the  name  of  Isidore  nowhere  occurs 
among  those  of  the  many  mutual  friends  to  whom  Sy- 
nesius  sends  messages  in  his  letters  to  Hypatia,  in 
which,  if  anywhere,  we  should  find  mention  of  a hus- 
band, had  one  existed.  To  Synesius*  most  charming 
letters,  as  well  as  to  those  of  Isidore,  the  good  Abbot 
of  Pelusium,  I beg  leave  to  refer  those  readers  who 
wish  for  further  information  about  the  private  life  of 
the  fifth  century. 

I cannot  hope  that  these  pages  will  be  altogether 
free  from  anachronisms  and  errors.  I can  only  say 
that  I have  labored  honestly  and  industriously  to  dis- 
cover the  truth,  even  in  its  minutest  details,  and  to 


PREFACE. 


17 


sketch  the  age,  its  manners,  and  its  literature,  as  I 
found  them — altogether  artificial,  slipshod,  effete,  re- 
sembling far  more  the  times  of  Louis  Quinze  than 
those  of  Sophocles  and  Plato.  And  so  I send  forth 
this  little  sketch,  ready  to  give  my  hearty  thanks  to 
any  reviewer  who,  by  exposing  my  mistakes,  shall 
teach  me  and  the  public  somewhat  more  about  the  last 
struggle  between  the  Young  Church  and  the  Old 
World. 


2 


HYPATIA; 


OR,  NEW  FOES  WITH  AN  OLD  FACE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  LAURA. 

In  the  four  hundred  and  thirteenth  year  of  the 
Christian  Era,  some  three  hundred  miles  above  Alex- 
andria, the  young-  monk  Philammon  was  sitting  on  the 
edge  of  a low  range  of  inland  cliffs,  crested  with  drift  • 
ing  sand.  Behind  him  the  desert  sand  waste  stretched, 
lifeless,  interminable,  reflecting  its  lurid  glare  on  the 
horizon  of  the  cloudless  vault  of  blue.  At  his  feet  the 
sand  dripped  and  trickled,  in  yellow  rivulets,  from 
crack  to  crack  and  ledge  to  ledge,  or  whirled  past  him 
in  tiny  jets  of  yellow  smoke,  before  the  fitful  summer 
airs.  Here  and  there,  upon  the  face  of  the  cliffs  which 
walled  in  the  opposite  side  of  the  narrow  glen  below, 
were  cavernous  tombs,  huge  old  quarries,  with  obe- 
lisks and  half-cut  pillars,  standing  as  the  workmen 
had  left  them  centuries  before ; the  sand  was  slipping 
down  and  piling  up  around  them;  their  heads  were 
frosted  with  the  arid  snow;  everywhere  was  silence, 
desolation — the  grave  of  a dead  nation  in  a dying 
land.  And  there  he  sat  musing  above  it  all,  full  of  life 


20 


HYPATIA. 


and  youth  and  health  and  beauty — a young  Apollo  of 
the  desert.  His  only  clothing  was  a ragged  sheep- 
skin,, bound  with  a leathern  girdle.  His  long  black 
locks,  unshorn  from  childhood,  waved  and  glistened 
in  the  sun;  a rich  dark  down  on  cheek  and  chin 
showed  the  spring  of  healthful  manhood;  his  hard 
hands  and  sinewy  sunburnt  limbs  told  of  labor  and  en- 
durance; his  flashing  eyes  and  beetling.  brow,  of  dar- 
ing fancy,  passion,  thought,  which  had  no  sphere  of 
action  in  such  a place.  What  did  his  glorious  young 
humanity  alone  among  tho  tombs  ? 

So  perhaps  he,  too,  thought,  as  he  passed  his  hand 
across  his  brow,  as  if  to  sweep  away  some  gathering 
dream,  and  sighing,  rose  and  wandered  along  the 
cliffs,  peering  downward  at  every  point  and  cranny 
in  search  of  fuel  for  the  monastery  from  whence  he 
came. 

Simple  as  was  the  material  which  he  sought,  con- 
sisting chiefly  of  the  low  arid  desert  shrubs,  with  now 
and  then  a fragment  of  wood  from  some  deserted  quarry 
or  ruin,  it  was  becoming  scarcer  and  scarcer  round 
Abbot  Pambo’s  Laura  at  Scetis;  and  long  before  Phi- 
lammon  had  collected  his  daily  quantity,  he  had 
strayed  further  from  his  home  than  he  had  ever  been 
before. 

Suddenly  at  a turn  of  the  glen,  he  came  upon  a sight 
new  to  him  ...  a temple  carved  in  the  sandstone 
cliff:  and  in  front,  a smooth  platform,  strewn  with 
beams  and  mouldering  tools,  and  here  and  there  a 
skull  bleaching  among  the  sand,  perhaps  of  some 
workman  slaughtered  at  his  labor  in  one  of  the  thou- 
sand wars  of  old.  The  abbot,  his  spiritual  father — 
indeed,  the  only  father  whom  he  knew,  for  his  earliest 
recollections  were  of  the  Laura  and  the  old  man’s  cell 
— had  strictly  forbidden  him  to  enter,  even  to  ap- 


HYPATIA. 


21 


proach  any  of  those  relics  of  ancient  idolatry : hut  a 
broad  terrace-road  let  down  to  the  platform  from  the 
table-land  above;  the  plentiful  supply  of  fuel  was  too 
tempting-  to  be  passed  by.  . . . He  would  g*o  down, 
g-ather  a few  sticks,  and  then  return,  to  tell  the  ab- 
bot of  the  treasure  which  he  had  found,  and  consult 
him  as  to  the  propriety  of  revisiting-  it. 

So  down  he  went,  hardly  daring-  to  raise  his  eyes  to 
the  alluring  iniquities  of  the  painted  imagery  which, 
gaudy  in  crimson  and  blue,  still  blazed  out  upon  the 
desolate  solitude,  uninjured  by  that  rainless  air.  But 
he  was  young,  and  youth  is  curious;  and  the  devil,  at 
least  in  the  fifth  century,  busy  with  young  brains. 
Now  Philammon  believed  most  utterly  in  the  devil, 
and  night  and  day  devoutly  prayed  to  be  delivered 
from  him ; so  he  crossed  himself,  and  ejaculated,  hon- 
estly enough,  “ Lord,  turn  away  mine  eyes,  lest  they 
behold  vanity ! " . . . and  looked  nevertheless.  . . . 

And  who  could  have  helped  looking  at  those  four 
colossal  kings,  who  sat  there  grim  and  motionless,  their 
huge  hands  laid  upon  their  knees  in  everlasting  self- 
assured  repose,  seeming  to  bear  up  the  mountain  on 
their  stately  heads  ? A sense  of  awe,  weakness,  all  but 
fear,  came  over  him.  He  dare  not  stoop  to  take  up 
the  wood  at  his  feet,  their  great  stern  eyes  watched 
him  so  steadily. 

Round  their  knees  and  round  their  thrones  were 
mystic  characters  engraven,  symbol  after  symbol,  line 
below  line — the  ancient  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians, 
wherein  Moses  the  man  of  God  was  learned  of  old — 
why  should  not  he  know  it  too  ? What  awful  secrets 
might  not  be  hidden  there  about  the  great  world,  past, 
present,  and  future,  of  which  he  knew  only  so  small  a 
speck  ? Those  kings  who  sat  there,  they  had  known  it 
all;  their  sharp  lips  seem  parting,  ready  to  speak  to 


22 


HYPATIA. 


him.  . . . Oh  that  they  would  speak  for  once!  . . . 
and  yet  that  grim  sneering  smile,  that  seemed  to  look 
down  on  him  from  the  heights  of  their  power  and  wis- 
dom, with  calm  contempt  . . . him,  the  poor  youth, 
picking  up  the  leaving  and  rags  of  their  past  majesty. 
. . . He  dared  look  at  them  no  more. 

So  he  looked  past  them  into  the  temple  halls;  into 
a lustrous  abyss  of  cool  green  shade,  deepening  on  and 
inward,  pillar  after  pillar,  vista  after  vista  into  deep- 
est night.  And  dimly  through  the  gloom  he  could 
descry,  on  every  wall  and  column,  gorgeous  ara- 
besques, long  lines  of  pictured  story;  triumphs  and 
labors;  rows  of  captives  in  foreign  and  fantastic 
dresses,  leading  strange  animals,  bearing  the  tributes 
of  unknown  lands ; rows  of  ladies  at  feasts,  their  heads 
crowned  with  garlands,  the  fragrant  lotus-flower  in 
every  hand,  while  slaves  brought  wine  and  perfumes, 
and  children  sat  upon  their  knees,  and  husbands  by 
their  side ; and  dancing  girls,  in  transparent  robes  and 
golden  girdles,  tossed  their  tawny  limbs  wildly  among 
the  throng.  . . . What  was  the  meaning  of  it  all  ? 
Why  had  it  all  been  ? Why  had  it  gone  on  thus,  the 
great  world  century  after  century,  millennium  after 
millennium,  eating  and  drinking,  and  marrying  and 
giving  in  marriage,  and  knowing  nothing  better  . . . 
how  could  they  know  anything  better  ? Their  fore- 
fathers had  lost  the  light  ages  and  ages  before  they 
were  born.  . . . And  Christ  had  not  come  for  ages 
and  ages  after  they  were  dead.  . . . How  could  they 
know  ? . . . And  yet  they  were  all  in  hell  . . . 
every  one  of  them.  Every  one  of  those  ladies  who  sat 
there,  with  her  bushy  locks,  and  garlands,  and 
jewelled  collars,  and  lotus-flowers,  and  gauzy  dress, 
displaying  all  her  slender  limbs — who,  perhaps  when 
she  was  alive,  smiled  so  sweetly,  and  went  so  gayly. 


HYPATIA. 


23 


and  had  children,  and  friends,  and  never  once  thought 
of  what  was  going  to  happen  to  her — what  must  hap- 
pen to  her.  . . . She  was  in  hell.  . . . Burning  forever, 
and  ever,  and  ever,  there  below  his  feet.  He  stared 
down  on  the  rocky  floors.  If  he  could  but  see  through 
them  . . . and  the  eye  of  faith  could  see  through 
them  he  should  behold  her  writhing  and  twisting 
among  the  flickering  flame,  scorched,  glowing  ...  in 
everlasting  agony,  such  as  the  thought  of  enduring 
for  a moment  made  him  shudder.  He  had  burnt  his 
hands  once,  when  a palm-leaf  hat  caught  fire.  . . . 
He  recollected  what  that  was  like.  . . . She  was  en- 
during ten  thousand  times  more  than  that  forever. 

. . . He  should  hear  her  shrieking  in  vain  for  a drop 
of  water  to  cool  her  tongue.  . . . He  had  never  heard 
a human  being  shriek  but  once  ...  a boy  bathing  on 
the  opposite  Nile  bank,  whom  a crocodile  had  dragged 
down  . . . and  that  scream,  faint  and  distant  as  it 
came  across  the  mighty  tide,  had  rung  intolerable  in 
his  ear  for  days  . . . and  to  think  of  all  which  echoed 
through  those  vaults  of  fire  — forever ! W as  the 
thought  bearable? — was  it  possible?  Millions  upon 
millions  burning  forever  for  Adam’s  fall.  . . . Could 
God  be  just  in  that  ? . . . 

It  was  the  temptation  of  a fiend ! He  had  entered 
the  unhallowed  precincts,  where  devils  still  lingered 
about  their  ancient  shrines;  he  had  let  his  eyes  de- 
vour the  abominations  of  the  heathen,  and  given  place 
to  the  devil.  He  would  flee  home  to  confess  it  all  to 
his  father.  He  would  punish  him  as  he  deserved,  pray 
for  him,  forgive  him.  And  yet  could  he  tell  him  all  ? 
Could  he,  dare  he  confess  to  him  the  whole  truth — the 
insatiable  craving  to  know  the  mysteries  of  learning 
- — to  see  the  great  roaring  world  of  men,  which  had 
been  growing  up  in  him  slowly,  month  after  month. 


24 


HYPATIA. 


till  now  it  had  assumed  this  fearful  shape  ? He  could 
stay  no  longer  in  the  desert.  This  world  which  sent 
all  souls  to  hell — was  it  as  bad  as  monks  declared  it 
was  ? It  must  be,  else  how  could  such  be  the  fruit  of 
it  ? But  it  was  too  awful  a thought  to  be  taken  on 
trust.  No;  he  must  go  and  see. 

Filled  with  such  fearful  questionings,  half-inarticu- 
late and  vague,  like  the  thoughts  of  a child,  the  un- 
tutored youth  went  wandering  on,  till  he  reached  the 
edge  of  the  cliff  below  which  lay  his  home. 

It  lay  pleasantly  enough,  that  lonely  Laura,  or  lane 
of  rude  Cyclopean  cells,  under  the  perpetual  shadow 
of  the  southern  wall  of  crags,  amid  its  grove  of  ancient 
date-trees.  A branching  cavern  in  the  cliff  supplied 
the  purposes  of  a chapel,  a storehouse,  and  a hospital; 
while  on  the  sunny  slope  across  the  glen  lay  the  com- 
mon gardens  of  the  brotherhood,  green  wTith  millet, 
maize,  and  beans,  among  which  a tiny  streamlet,  hus- 
banded and  guided  with  the  most  thrifty  care,  wan- 
dered down  from  the  cliff  foot,  and  spread  perpetual 
verdure  over  the  little  plot  which  voluntary  and  fra- 
ternal labor  had  painfully  redeemed  from  the  inroads 
of  the  all-devouring  sand.  For  that  garden,  like 
everything  else  in  the  Laura,  except  each  brother’s 
seven  feet  of  stone  sleeping-hut,  was  the  common 
property,  and  therefore  the  common  care  and  joy  of 
all.  For  the  common  good,  as  well  as  for  his  own, 
each  man  had  toiled  up  the  glen  with  his  palm-leaf 
basket  of  black  mud  from  the  river  Nile,  over  whose 
broad  sheet  of  silver  the  glen’s  mouth  yawned  abrupt. 
For  the  common  good,  each  man  had  swept  the  edges 
clear  of  sand,  and  sown  in  the  scanty  artificial  soil,  the 
harvest,  of  which  all  were  to  share  alike.  To  buy 
clothes,  books,  and  chapel  furniture  for  the  common 
necessities,  education  and  worship,  each  man  sat,  day 


“He  had  entered  the  unhallowed  precincts,  where  devils  still  lingered  about 
their  ancient  shrines.” 


. 


. 


HYPATIA 


27 


after  day,  week  after  week,  his  mind  full  of  hig“li  and 
heavenly  thoughts,  weaving  the  leaves  of  their  little 
palm  copse  into  baskets,  which  an  aged  monk  ex- 
changed for  goods  with  the  more  prosperous  and  fre- 
quented monasteries  of  the  opposite  bank.  Thither 
Philammon  rowed  the  old  man  over,  week  by  week  in 
a light  canoe  of  papyrus,  and  fished,  as  he  sat  waiting 
for  him,  for  the  common  meal.  A simple,  happy, 
gentle  life  was  that  of  the  Laura,  all  portioned  out  by 
rules  and  methods,  which  were  held  hardly  less  sacred 
than  those  of  the  Scriptures,  on  which  they  were  sup- 
posed (and  not  so  very  wrongly  either)  to  have  been 
framed.  Each  man  had  food  and  raiment,  shelter  on 
earth,  friends  and  counsellors,  living  trust  in  the  con- 
tinual care  of  Almighty  God ; and  blazing  before  his 
eyes,  by  day  and  night,  the  hope  of  everlasting  glory 
beyond  all  poets*  dreams.  . . . And  what  more  would 
man  have  had  in  those  days  ? Thither  they  had  fled 
out  of  cities,  compared  with  which  Paris  is  earnest 
and  Gomorrha  chaste — out  of  a rotten,  infernal,  dy- 
ing world  of  tyrants  and  slaves,  hypocrites,  and  wan- 
tons— to  ponder  undisturbed  on  duty  and  on  judg- 
ment, on  death  and  eternity,  heaven  and  hell : to  find 
a common  creed,  a common  interest,  a common  hope, 
common  duties,  pleasures,  and  sorrows.  . . . True, 
they  had  many  of  them  fled  from  the  posts  where  God 
had  placed  them,  when  they  fled  from  man  into  the 
Thebaid  waste.  . . . What  sort  of  posts  and  what 
sort  of  an  age  they  were,  from  which  those  old  monks 
fled,  we  shall  see,  perhaps,  before  this  tale  is  told  out. 

"Thou  art  late,  son/*  said  the  abbot,  steadfastly 
working  away  at  his  palm-basket  as  Philammon  ap- 
proached. 

“ Fuel  is  scarce  and  I was  forced  to  go  far.** 

" A monk  should  not  answer  till  he  is  questioned.  I 


28 


HYPATIA. 


did  not  ask  the  reason.  Where  didst  thou  find  that 
wood  ? ” 

" Before  the  temple,  far  up  the  glen.” 

" The  temple ! What  didst  thou  see  there  ? ” 

No  answer.  Pa  mho  looked  up  with  his  keen  black 
eye. 

" Thou  hast  entered  it,  and  lusted  after  its  abomina- 
tions.” 

"I — I did  not  enter:  but  I looked ” 

" And  what  didst  thou  see  ? Women  ? ” 

Philammon  was  silent. 

" Have  I not  bidden  you  never  to  look  on  the  face  of 
women  ? Are  they  not  the  first  fruits  of  the  devil,  the 
authors  of  all  evil,  the  subtlest  of  all  Satan's  snares  ? 
Are  they  not  accursed  forever  for  the  deceit  of  their 
first  mother,  by  whom  sin  entered  into  the  world  ? A 
woman  first  opened  the  gates  of  hell  ; and  until  this 
day,  they  are  the  portresses  thereof.  Unhappy  boy, 
what  hast  thou  done  ? ” 

" They  were  but  painted  on  the  walls.” 

"Ah ! ” said  the  abbot,  as  if  suddenly  relieved  from 
a heavy  burden.  " But  how  knewest  thou  them  to  be 
women,  when  thou  hast  never  yet,  unless  thou  liest— 
which  I believe  not  of  thee — seen  the  face  of  a daugh- 
ter of  Eve  ? ” 

"Perhaps — perhaps,”  said  Philammon,  as  if  sud- 
denly relieved  by  a new  suggestion— " perhaps  they 
were  only  devils.  They  must  have  been,  I think,  for 
they  were  so  very  beautiful.” 

"Ah!  how  knowest  thou  that  devils  are  beautiful?” 
" I was  launching  the  boat  a week  ago,  with  Father 
Aufugus,  and  on  the  bank,  . . . not  very  near,  . . . 
there  were  two  creatures  . . . with  long  hair,  and 
striped  all  over  the  lower  half  of  their  bodies  with 
black,  and  red,  and  yellow,  . . . and  they  were  gath 


HYPATIA. 


29 


ering  flowers  on  the  shore.  Father  Aufugus  turned 
away,  hut  I,  ...  I could  not  help  thinking-  them  the 
most  beautiful  things  that  I had  ever  seen,  ...  so  I 
asked  him  why  he  turned  away,  and  he  said  that  those 
were  the  same  sort  of  devils  which  tempted  the  blessed 
St.  Anthony.  Then  I recollected  having  heard  it  read 
aloud,  how  Satan  tempted  Anthony  in  the  shape  of  a 
beautiful  woman,  . . . And  so,  . . . and  so  . . . those 
figures  on  the  wall  were  very  like, . . . and  I thought 
they  might  be •” 

And  the  poor  boy,  who  considered  that  he  was  mak- 
ing confession  of  a deadly  and  shameful  sin,  blushed 
scarlet  and  stammered,  and  at  last  stopped. 

“And  thou  thoughtest  them  beautiful  ? Oh,  utter 
corruption  of  the  flesh!  oh,  subtility  of  Satan!  The 
Lord  forgive  thee,  as  I do,  my  poor  child : henceforth 
thou  goest  not  beyond  the  garden  walls.” 

“ Not  beyond  the  walls!  Impossible!  I cannot!  If 
thou  wert  not  my  father,  I would  say,  I will  not ! I 
must  have  liberty ! I must  see  for  myself — I must  judge 
for  nc^self,  what  this  world  is  of  which  you  all  talk  so 
bitterly.  I long  for  no  pomps  and  vanities.  I will 
promise  you  this  moment,  if  you  will,  never  to  re-enter 
a heathen  temple — to  hide  my  face  in  the  dust  whenever 
I approach  a woman.  But  I must — I must  see  the 
world  ; I must  see  the  great  mother  church  in  Alex- 
andria and  the  patriarch  and  his  clergy.  If  they  can 
serve  God  in  the  city,  why  not  I ? I could  do  more  for 
God  there  than  here.  ...  Not  that  I despise  this 
work — not  that  I am  ungrateful  to  you — oh,  never, 
never  that!  but  I pant  for  the  battle.  Let  me  go! 
I am  not  discontented  with  you,  but  with  myself.  I 
know  that  obedience  is  noble;  but  danger  is  nobler 
still.  If  you  have  seen  the  world,  why  should  not  I ? 
If  you  have  fled  from  it  because  you  found  it  too  evil 


30 


HYPATIA. 


to  live  in,  why  should  not  I,  and  return  to  you  here  of 
my  own  will,  never  to  leave  you  ? . . . And  yet  Cyril 
and  his  clergy  have  not  lied  from  it ” 

Desperately  and  breathlessly  did  Philammon  drive 
this  speech  out  of  his  inmost  heart;  and  then  waited, 
expecting  the  good  abbot  to  strike  him  on  the  spot. 
If  he  had,  the  young  man  would  have  submitted  pa- 
tiently: so  would  any  man,  however  venerable,  in  that 
monastery.  Why  not  ? Duly,  after  long  companion- 
ship, thought,  and  prayer,  they  had  elected  Pam  bo  for 
their  abbot — abba — father — the  wisest,  eldest-hearted 
of  them — if  he  was  that,  it  was  time  that  he  should  be 
obeyed.  And  obeyed  he  was,  with  a loyal,  reasonable 
love,  and  yet  with  an  implicit,  soldier-like  obedience, 
which  many  a king  and  conqueror  might  envy.  Were 
they  cowards  and  slaves  ? The  Roman  legionaries 
should  be  good  judges  on  that  point.  They  used  to 
say  that  no  armed  barbarian,  Goth  or  Yandal,  Moor 
or  Spaniard,  was  as  terrible  as  the  unarmed  monk  of 
the  Thebaid. 

Twice  the  old  man  lifted  his  staff  to  strike  ; twice  he 
laid  it  down  again : and  then,  slowly  rising,  left  Phi- 
lammon kneeling  there,  and  moved  away  deliberately, 
and  with  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground,  to  the  house  of  the 
brother  Aufugus. 

Every  one  in  the  Laura  honored  Aufugus.  There 
was  a mystery  about  him  which  heightened  the  charm 
of  his  surpassing  sanctity,  his  childlike  sweetness  and 
humility.  It  was  whispered — when  the  monks  seldom 
and  cautiously  did  whisper  together  in  their  lonely 
walks — that  he  had  been  once  a great  man;  that  he 
had  come  from  a great  city  — perhaps  from  Rome 
itself.  And  the  simple  monks  were  proud  to  think  that 
they  had  among  them  a man  who  had  seen  Rome.  At 
least.  Abbot  Pambo  respected  him.  He  was  never 


HYPATIA. 


31 


beaten;  never  even  reproved — perhaps  he  never  re- 
quired it;  but  still  it  was  the  meed  of  all;  and  was  not 
the  abbot  a little  partial  ? Yet,  certainly,  when  Theo- 
philus  sent  up  a messenger  from  Alexandria,  rousing 
every  Laura  with  the  news  of  the  sack  of  Rome  by 
Alaric,  did  not  Pambo  take  him  first  to  the  cell  of 
Aufugus,  and  sit  with  him  there  three  whole  hours  in 
secret  consultation,  before  he  told  the  awful  story  to 
the  rest  of  the  brotherhood  ? And  did  not  Aufugus 
himself  give  letters  to  the  messenger,  written  with  his 
own  hand,  containing,  as  was  said,  deep  secrets  of 
worldly  policy,  known  only  to  himself  ? So,  when  the 
little  lane  of  holy  men,  each  peering  stealthily  over 
his  plaiting  work  from  the  doorway  of  his  sandstone 
cell,  saw  the  abbot,  after  his  unwonted  passion,  leave 
the  culprit  kneeling,  and  take  his  way  toward  the 
sage’s  dwelling,  they  judged  that  something  strange 
and  delicate  had  befallen  the  common  weal,  and  each 
wished,  without  envy,  that  he  were  as  wise  as  the  man 
whose  counsel  was  to  solve  the  difficulty. 

For  an  hour  or  more  the  abbot  remained  there,  talk- 
ing earnestly  and  low;  and  then  a solemn  sound  as  of 
the  two  old  men  praying  with  sobs,  and  tears;  and 
every  brother  bowed  his  head,  and  whispered  a hope 
that  He  whom  they  served  might  guide  them  for  the 
good  of  the  Laura,  and  of  His  Church,  and  of  the  great 
heathen  world  beyond : and  still  Philammon  knelt 
motionless,  awaiting  his  sentence:  his  heart  filled — 
who  can  tell  how  ? “ The  heart  knoweth  its  own  bit- 

terness, and  a stranger  intermeddleth  not  with  its 
joy.”  So  thought  he  as  he  knelt;  and  so  think  I,  too, 
knowing  that  in  the  pettiest  character  there  are  un- 
fathomable depths,  which  the  poet,  all-seeing  though  he 
may  pretend  to  be,  can  never  analyze,  but  must  only 
dimly  guess  at,  and  still  more  dimly  sketch  them  by 
the  actions  which  they  beget. 


32 


HYPATIA. 


At  last  Pambo  returned,  deliberate,  still,  and  slow, 
as  he  had  gone,  and  seating  himself  within  his  cell, 
spoke : 

“And  the  youngest  said.  Father,  give  me  the  por- 
tion of  goods  that  falleth  to  my  share.  . . . And  he 
took  his  journey  into  a far  country,  and  there  wasted 
his  substance  with  riotous  living.  Thou  slialt  go,  my 
son.  But  first  come  after  me,  and  speak  with  Aufu- 
gus.” 

Philammon,  like  every  one  else,  loved  Aufugus,  and 
when  the  abbot  retired  and  left  the  two  alone  to- 
gether, he  felt  no  dread  or  shame  about  unburdening 
his  whole  heart  to  him.  Long  and  passionately  he 
spoke,  in  answer  to  the  gentle  questions  of  the  old 
man,  who,  without  the  rigidity  or  pedantic  solemnity 
of  the  monk,  interrupted  the  youth,  and  let  himself  be 
interrupted  in  return,  gracefully,  genially,  almost 
playfully.  And  yet  there  was  a melanchoty  about  his 
tone  as  he  answered  to  the  youth’s  appeal: 

“ Tertullian,  Origen,  Clement,  Cyprian — all  these 
moved  in  the  world;  all  these  and  many  more  besides, 
whose  names  we  honor,  whose  prayers  we  invoke,  were 
learned  in  the  wisdom  of  the  heathen,  and  fought  and 
labored,  unspotted,  in  the  world;  and  why  not  I? 
Cyril  the  patriarch  himself,  was  he  not  called  from 
the  caves  of  Nitria  to  sit  on  the  throne  of  Alexandria  ? ” 

Slowly  the  old  man  lifted  his  hand,  and  putting  back 
the  thick  locks  of  the  kneeling  youth,  gazed,  with  soft, 
pitying  eyes,  long  and  earnestly  into  his  face. 

“And  thou  wouldst  see  the  world,  poor  fool  ? And 
thou  wouldst  see  the  world  ? ” 

“ I would  convert  the  world ! ” 

“ Thou  must  know  it  first.  And  shall  I tell  thee 
what  that  world  is  like,  which  seems  to  thee  so  easy 
to  convert  ? Here  I sit,  the  poor  unknown  old  monk, 


HYPATIA. 


33 


until  I die,  fasting  and  praying,  if  perhaps  God  will 
have  mercy  on  my  soul:  hut  little  thou  knowest  how 
I have  seen  it.  Little  thou  knowest,  or  thou  wouldst 
be  well  content  to  rest  here  till  the  end.  I was  Arse- 
nius.  . . . Ah!  vain  old  man  that  I am!  Thou  hast 
never  heard  that  name,  at  which  once  queens  would 
whisper  and  grow  pale.  Yanitas  vanitatum ! omnia 
vanitas!  And  yet  he  at  whose  frown  half  the  world 
trembles  has  trembled  himself  at  mine.  I was  the 
tutor  of  Arcadius.” 

“ The  emperor  of  Byzantium  ? ” 

“ Even  so,  my  son,  even  so.  There  I saw  the  world 
which  thou  wouldst  see.  And  what  saw  I ? Even 
what  thou  wilt  see.  Eunuchs  the  tyrants  of  their  own 
sovereigns.  Bishops  kissing  the  feet  of  parricides  and 
harlots.  Saints  tearing  saints  in  pieces  for  a word, 
while  sinners  cheer  them  on  to  the  unnatural  fight. 
Liars  thanked  for  lying,  hypocrites  rejoicing  in  their 
hypocrisy.  The  many  sold  and  butchered  for  the  mal- 
ice, the  caprice,  the  vanity  of  the  few.  The  plunder- 
ers of  the  poor  plundered  in  their  turn  by  worse  de- 
vourers  than  themselves.  Every  attempt  at  reform 
the  parent  of  worse  scandals;  every  mercy  begetting 
fresh  cruelties  ; every  persecutor  silenced,  only  to  en- 
able others  to  persecute  him  in  their  turn;  every  devil 
who  is  exorcised  returning  with  seven  others  worse 
than  himself : falsehood  and  selfishness,  spite  and  lust, 
confusion  seven  times  confounded,  Satan  casting  out 
Satan  everywhere — from  the  emperor  who  wantons 
on  his  throne  to  the  slave  who  blasphemes  beneath  his 
fetters.” 

“If  Satan  cast  out  Satan,  his  kingdom  shall  not 
stand.” 

“ In  the  world  to  come.  But  in  this  world  it  shall 
stand  and  conquer,  even  worse  and  worse,  until  the 
3 


34 


HYPATIA. 


end.  These  are  the  last  days  spoken  of  by  the  pro- 
phets, the  beginning  of  woes  such  as  never  have  been  on 
the  earth  before.  On  earth  distress  of  nations  with 
perplexity,  men’s  hearts  failing  them  for  fear,  and  for 
the  dread  of  those  things  which  are  coming  on  the 
earth/  I have  seen  it  long.  Year  after  year  I have 
watched  them  coming  nearer  and  ever  nearer  in  their 
course,  like  the  whirling  sand-storms  of  the  desert, 
which  sweep  past  the  caravan,  and  past  again,  and 
yet  overwhelm  it  after  all — that  black  flood  of  the 
Northern  barbarians.  I foretold  it ; I prayed  against 
it ; but,  like  Cassandra’s  of  old,  my  prophecy  and  my 
prayers  were  alike  unheard.  My  pupils  spurned  my 
warnings.  The  lusts  of  youth,  the  intrigues  of  cour- 
tiers, were  stronger  than  the  warning  voice  of  God ; 
then  I ceased  to  hope;  I ceased  to  pray  for  the  glori- 
ous city,  for  I knew  that  her  sentence  was  gone  forth ; 
I saw  her  in  the  spirit,  even  as  St.  John  saw  her  in 
the  Revelation  ; her,  and  her  sins,  and  her  ruin.  And 
I fled  secretly  at  night,  and  buried  myself  here  in  the 
desert,  to  await  the  end  of  the  world.  Night  and  day 
I prayed  the  Lord  to  accomplish  His  elect,  and  to 
hasten  His  kingdom.  Morning  by  morning,  I look  up 
trembling,  and  yet  in  hope,  for  the  sign  of  the  Son  of 
Man  in  heaven,  when  the  sun  shall  be  turned  into 
darkness,  and  the  moon  into  blood,  and  the  stars  shall 
fall  from  heaven,  and  the  skies  pass  away  like  a scroll, 
and  the  fountains  of  the  nether  fire  burst  up  around  our 
feet,  and  the  end  of  all  shall  come.  And  thou  wouldst 
go  into  the  world  from  which  I fled  ? ” 

“ If  the  harvest  be  at  hand,  the  Lord  needs  laborers. 
If  the  times  be  awful,  I should  be  doing  awful  things 
in  them.  Send  me,  and  let  that  day  find  me,  where  I 
long  to  be,  in  the  forefront  of  the  battle  of  the  Lord/’ 
“ The  Lord’s  voice  be  obeyed ! Thou  shalt  go.  Here 


HYPATIA. 


35 


are  letters  to  Cyril  the  patriarch.  He  will  love  thee 
for  my  sake:  and  for  thine  own  sake  too,  I trust. 
Thou  goest  of  our  free  will  as  well  as  thine  own.  The 
abbot  and  I have  watched  thee  long,  knowing  that 
the  Lord  had  need  of  such  as  thee  elsewhere.  We  did 
but  prove  thee,  to  see,  by  thy  readiness  to  obey,  whether 
thou  w~ert  fit  to  rule.  Go,  and  God  be  wbth  thee. 
Covet  no  man’s  gold  or  silver.  Neither  eat  flesh  nor 
drink  wine,  but  live  as  thou  hast  lived — a Nazarite  of 
the  Lord.  Fear  not  the  face  of  man  ; but  look  not  on 
the  face  of  woman.  In  an  evil  hour  came  they  into 
the  wrorld,  the  mothers  of  all  mischiefs  which  I have 
seen  under  the  sun.  Come  ; the  abbot  waits  for  us  at 
the  gate.” 

With  tears  of  surprise,  joy,  sorrow7,  almost  of  dread, 
Philammon  hung  back. 

“Nay — come.  Why  shouldst  thou  break  thy  breth- 
ren’s hearts  and  ours  by  many  leave-takings  ? Bring 
from  the  storehouse  a week’s  provision  of  dried  dates 
and  millet.  The  papyrus  boat  lies  at  the  ferry : thou 
shalt  descend  in  it.  The  Lord  will  replace  it  for  us 
when  we  need  it.  Speak  with  no  man  on  the  river  ex- 
cept the  monks  of  God.  When  thou  hast  gone  five 
days’  journey  downward,  ask  for  the  mouth  of  the 
canal  of  Alexandria.  Once  in  the  city,  any  monk  will 
guide  thee  to  the  archbishop.  Send  us  news  of  thy 
welfare  by  some  holy  mouth.  Come.” 

Silently  they  paced  together  dowm  the  glen  to  the 
lonely  beach  of  the  great  stream.  Pambo  was  there 
already,  his  white  hair  glittering  in  the  rising  moon, 
as  with  slow  and  feeble  arms  he  launched  the  light 
canoe.  Philammon  flung  himself  at  the  old  men’s  feet, 
and  besought,  with  many  tears,  their  forgiveness  and 
their  blessing. 

“We  have  nothing  to  forgive.  Follow  thou  thine 


36 


HYPATIA. 


inward  call.  If  it  be  of  the  flesh,  it  will  avenge  itself; 
if  it  be  of  the  Spirit,  who  are  we  that  we  should  fight 
against  God  ? Farewell." 

A few  minutes  more,  and  the  youth  and  his  canoe 
were  lessening  down  the  rapid  stream  in  the  golden 
summer  twilight.  Again  a minute,  and  the  swift 
southern  night  had  fallen,  and  all  was  dark  but  the 
cold  glare  of  the  moon  on  the  river,  and  on  the  rock- 
faces,  and  on  the  two  old  men,  as  they  knelt  upon  the 
beach,  and  with  their  heads  upon  each  other’s  shoul- 
ders, like  two  children  sobbed  and  prayed  together  for 
the  lost  darling  of  their  age. 


A few  minutes  more,  and  the  youth  and  his  canoe  were  lessening  down  the 
rapid  stream. 


HYPATIA. 


39 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  DYING  WORLD. 

In  the  upper  story  of  a house  in  the  Museum  street 
of  Alexandria,  built  and  fitted  up  on  the  old  Athenian 
model,  was  a small  room.  It  had  been  chosen  by  its 
occupant,  not  merely  on  account  of  its  quiet;  for 
though  it  was  tolerably  out  of  hearing  of  the  female 
slaves  who  worked,  and  chattered,  and  quarrelled  un- 
der the  cloisters  of  the  women’s  court  on  the  south 
side,  yet  it  was  exposed  to  the  rattle  of  carriages  and 
the  voices  of  passengers  in  the  fashionable  street 
below,  and  to  strange  bursts  of  roaring,  squealing,  and 
trumpeting  from  the  menagerie,  a short  way  off  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  The  attraction  of  the 
situation  lay,  perhaps,  in  the  view  which  it  commanded 
over  the  wall  of  the  museum  gardens,  of  flower-beds, 
shrubberies,  fountains,  statues,  walks,  and  alcoves, 
which  had  echoed  for  nearly  seven  hundred  years  to 
the  wisdom  of  the  Alexandrian  sages  and  poets. 
School  after  school,  they  had  all  walked,  and  taught, 
and  sung  there,  beneath  the  spreading  planes  and 
chestnuts,  figs  and  palm-trees.  The  place  seemed  fra- 
grant with  all  the  riches  of  Greek  thought  and  song, 
since  the  days  when  Ptolemy  Philadelphus  walked 
here  with  Euclid  and  Theocritus,  Callimachus  and 
Lycophron. 

On  the  left  of  the  garden  stretched  the  lofty  eastern 
front  of  the  museum  itself,  with  its  picture  galleries, 


40 


HYPATIA. 


halls  of  statuary,  dining-halls,  and  lecture-rooms;  one 
huge  wing  containing  that  famous  library,  founded  by 
the  father  of  Philadelplius,  which  held  in  the  time  of 
Seneca,  even  after  the  destruction  of  a great  part  of  it 
in  Ca?sar’s  siege,  four  hundred  thousand  manuscripts. 
There  it  towered  up,  the  wonder  of  the  world,  its  white 
roof  bright  against  the  rainless  blue  ; and  beyond  it, 
among  the  ridges  and  pediments  of  noble  buildings,  a 
broad  glimpse  of  the  bright  blue  sea. 

The  room  was  fitted  up  in  the  purest  Greek  style, 
not  without  an  affectation  of  archaism,  in  the  severe 
forms  and  subdued  half-tints  of  the  frescoes  which 
ornamented  the  walls  with  scenes  from  the  old  myths 
of  Athene.  Yet  the  general  effect,  even  under  the 
blazing  sun  which  poured  in  through  the  mosquito-nets 
of  the  court-yard  windows,  was  one  of  exquisite  cool- 
ness, and  cleanliness,  and  repose.  The  room  had 
neither  carpet  nor  fireplace;  and  the  only  movables  in 
it  were  a sofa-bed,  a table,  and  an  arm-chair,  all  of 
such  delicate  and  graceful  forms,  as  may  be  seen  on 
ancient  vases  of  far  earlier  period  than  that  whereof 
we  write.  But,  most  probably,  had  any  of  us  entered 
that  room  that  morning,  we  should  not  have  been  able 
to  spare  a look  either  for  the  furniture,  or  the  general 
effect,  or  the  museum  gardens,  or  the  sparkling  Med- 
iterranean beyond;  but  we  should  have  agreed  that 
the  room  was  quite  rich  enough  for  human  eyes,  for 
the  sake  of  one  treasure  which  it  possessed,  and,  beside 
which,  nothing  was  worth  a moment’s  glance.  For  in 
the  light  arm-chair,  reading  a manuscript  which  lay  on 
the  table,  sat  a woman,  of  some  five-and-twenty  years, 
evidently  the  tutelary  goddess  of  that  little  shrine, 
dressed,  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  archaism  of  the 
chamber,  in  a simple  old  snow-white  Ionic  robe,  falling 
to  the  feet  and  reaching  to  the  throat,  and  of  that 


HYPATIA. 


41 


peculiar  and  graceful  fashion  in  which  the  upper  part 
of  the  dress  falls  downward  again  from  the  neck  to 
the  waist  in  a sort  of  cape,  entirely  hiding  the  outline 
of  the  bust,  while  it  leaves  the  arms  and  the  point  of 
the  shoulders  bare.  Her  dress  was  entirely  without 
ornament,  except  the  two  narrow  purple  stripes  down 
the  front,  which  marked  her  rank  as  a Roman  citizen, 
the  gold-embroidered  shoes  upon  her  feet,  and  the  gold 
net,  which  looped  back,  from  her  forehead  to  her  neck, 
hair  the  color  and  gloss  of  which  were  hardly  distin- 
guishable from  that  of  the  metal  itself,  such  as  Athene 
herself  might  have  envied  for  tint,  and  mass,  and  rip- 
ple. Her  features,  arms,  and  hands  were  of  the  sever- 
est and  grandest  type  of  old  Greek  beauty,  at  once 
showing  everywhere  the  high  development  of  the 
bones,  and  covering  them  with  that  firm,  round,  ripe 
outline,  and  waxy  morbidezza  of  skin,  which  the  old 
Greeks  owed  to  their  continual  use  not  only  of  the 
bath  and  muscular  exercise,  hut  also  of  daily  unguents. 
There  might  have  seemed  to  us  much  sadness  in  that 
clear  gray  eye;  too  much  self-conscious  restraint  in 
those  sharp  curved  lips;  too  much  affectation  in  the 
studied  severity  of  her  posture  as  she  read,  copied,  as 
it  seemed,  from  some  old  vase  or  bas-relief.  But  the 
glorious  grace  and  beauty  of  every  line  of  face  and 
figure  would  have  excused,  even  hidden  those  defects, 
and  we  should  have  only  recognized  the  marked  re- 
semblance to  the  ideal  portraits  of  Athene  which 
adorned  every  panel  of  the  walls. 

She  has  lifted  her  eyes  off  her  manuscript;  she  is 
looking  out  with  kindling  countenance  over  the  gar- 
dens of  the  museum;  her  ripe  curling  Greek  lips,  such 
as  we  never  see  now,  even  among  our  own  wives  and 
sisters,  open.  She  is  talking  to  herself.  Listen : 

“ Yes.  The  statues  there  are  broken.  The  libraries 


42 


HYPATIA. 


are  plundered.  The  alcoves  are  silent.  The  oracles 
are  dumb.  And  yet — who  says  that  the  old  faith  of 
heroes  and  sages  is  dead  ? The  beautiful  can  never 
die.  If  the  gods  have  deserted  their  oracles,  they  have 
not  deserted  the  souls  who  aspire  to  them.  If  they 
have  ceased  to  speak  to  their  own  elect;  if  they  have 
cast  off  the  vulgar  herd;  they  have  not  cast  off  Hy- 
patia. 

****** 

"Ay.  To  believe  in  the  old  creeds,  while  every  one 
else  is  dropping  away  from  them.  ...  To  believe  in 
spite  of  disappointments.  ...  To  hope  against  hope. 
...  To  show  one’s  self  superior  to  the  herd,  by  seeing 
boundless  depths  of  living  glory  in  myths  which  have 
become  dark  and  dead  to  them.  ...  To  struggle  to 
the  last  against  the  new  and  vulgar  superstitions  of 
a rotting  age,  for  the  faith  of  my  forefathers,  for  the 
old  gods,  the  old  heroes,  the  old  sages  who  gauged  the 
mysteries  of  heaven  and  earth — and  perhaps  to  con- 
quer— at  least  to  have  my  reward ! To  be  welcomed 
into  celestial  ranks  of  the  heroic — to  rise  to  the  im- 
mortal gods,  to  the  ineffable  powers,  onward,  upward, 
ever,  through  ages  and  through  eternities,  till  I find  my 
home  at  last,  and  vanish  in  the  glory  of  the  nameless 
and  Absolute  One ! ” 

And  her  whole  face  flashed  out  into  wild  glory,  and 
then  sank  again  suddenly  into  a shudder  of  something 
like  fear  and  disgust,  as  she  saw,  watching  her  from 
under  the  wall  of  the  gardens  opposite,  a crooked, 
withered  Jewish  crone,  dressed  out  in  the  most  gor- 
geous and  fantastic  style  of  barbaric  finery. 

“ Why  does  that  old  hag  haunt  me  ? I see  her  every- 
where— till  the  last  month,  at  least — and  here  she  is 
again ! I will  ask  the  prefect  to  find  out  who  she  is, 
and  get  rid  of  her,  before  she  fascinates  me  with  that 


HYPATIA. 


43 


evil  eye.  Thank  the  gods,  there  she  moves  away  I 
Foolish — foolish  of  me,  a philosopher.  I,  to  believe, 
against  the  authority  of  Porphyry  himself,  too,  in  evil 
eyes  and  magic!  But  there  is  my  father,  pacing  up 
and  down  in  the  library.” 

As  she  spoke,  the  old  man  entered  from  the  next 
room.  He  was  a Greek,  also,  but  of  a more  common 
and  perhaps  lower  type;  dark  and  fiery,  thin  and 
graceful:  his  delicate  figure  and  cheeks,  wasted  by 
meditation,  harmonized  well  with  the  staid  and  simple 
philosophic  cloak  which  he  wore  as  a sign  of  his  pro- 
fession. He  paced  impatiently  up  and  down  the 
chamber,  while  his  keen,  glittering  eyes  and  restless 
gestures  betokened  intense  inward  thought.  ...  “I 
have  it.  . . . No!  again  it  escapes — it  contradicts  it- 
self. Miserable  man  that  I am.  If  there  is  faith  in 
Pythagoras,  the  symbol  should  be  an  expanding  series 
of  the  powers  of  three;  and  yet  that  accursed  binary 
factor  will  introduce  itself.  Did  you  not  work  the  sum 
out  once,  Hypatia  ? ” 

“Sit  down,  my  dear  father,  and  eat.  You  have 
tasted  no  food  yet  this  day.” 

“ What  do  I care  for  food ! The  inexpressible  must 
be  expressed,  the  work  must  be  done,  if  it  cost  me  the 
squaring  of  the  circle.  How  can  he  whose  sphere  lies 
above  the  stars  stoop  every  moment  to  earth  ? ” 

“Ay,”  she  answered,  half-bitterly,  “ and  would  that 
we  could  live  without  food,  and  imitate  perfectly  the 
immortal  gods.  But  while  we  are  in  this  prison-house 
of  matter,  we  must  wear  our  chain;  even  wear  it 
gracefully,  if  we  have  the  good  taste;  and  make  the 
base  necessities  of  this  body  of  shame  symbolic  of  the 
divine  food  of  the  reason.  There  is  fruit,  with  lentils 
and  rice,  waiting  for  you  in  the  next  room;  and  bread, 
unless  you  despise  it  too  much.” 


44 


IIYPATIA, 


“The  food  of  slaves!”  he  answered.  “Well,  I will 
eat,  and  be  ashamed  of  eating’.  Stay,  did  I tell  you  ? 
Six  new  pupils  in  the  mathematical  school  this  morn- 
ing. It  grows!  It  spreads!  We  shall  conquer  yet!” 
She  sighed.  “ How  do  you  know  that  they  have  not 
come  to  you,  as  Critias  and  Alcibiades  did  to  Socrates, 
to  learn  a merely  political  and  mundane  virtue? 
Strange!  that  men  should  be  content  to  grovel,  and 
be  men,  when  they  might  rise  to  the  rank  of  gods. 
Ah,  my  father!  That  is  my  bitterest  grief;  to  see 
those  who  have  been  pretending  in  the  morning  lec- 
ture-room to  worship  every  word  of  mine  as  an  oracle, 
lounging  in  the  afternoon  round  Pelagia’s  litter  ; and 
then  at  night — for  I know  that  they  do  it — the  dice 
and  the  wine,  and  worse.  That  Pallas  herself  should  be 
conquered  every  day  by  Venus  Pandemos!  That 
Pelagia  should  have  more  power  than  I!  Hot  that 
such  a creature  as  that  disturbs  me;  no  created  thing, 
I hope,  can  move  my  equanimity;  but  if  I could  stoop 
to  hate,  I should  hate  her — hate  her.” 

And  her  voice  took  a tone  which  made  it  somewhat 
uncertain  whether,  in  spite  of  all  the  lofty  impassa- 
bility  which  she  felt  bound  to  possess,  she  did  not  hate 
Pelagia  with  a most  human  and  mundane  hatred. 

But  at  that  moment  the  conversation  was  cut  short 
by  the  hasty  entrance  of  a slave  girl,  who,  with  flut- 
tering voice,  announced : 

“His  excellency,  madam,  the  prefect!  His  chariot 
has  been  at  the  gate  for  these  five  minutes,  and  he  is 
now  coming  up-stairs.” 

“ Foolish  child ! ” answered  Hypatia,  with  some  af- 
fectation of  indifference.  “And  why  should  that  dis- 
turb me  ? Let  him  enter.” 

The  door  opened,  and  in  came,  preceded  by  the  scent 
of  half  a dozen  different  perfumes,  a florid,  delicate- 


HYPATIA. 


45 


featured  man,  gorgeously  dressed  out  in  senatorial 
costume,  his  fingers  and  neck  covered  with  jewels. 

“The  representative  of  the  Caesars  honors  himself 
by  offering  at  the  shrine  of  Athene  Polias,  and  rejoices 
to  see  in  her  priestess  as  lovely  a likeness  as  ever  of  the 
goddess  whom  she  serves.  . . . Don’t  betray  me, 
but  I really  cannot  help  talking  sheer  paganism  when- 
ever I find  myself  within  the  influence  of  your  eyes.” 
“Truth  is  mighty,”  said  Hypatia,  as  she  rose  to 
greet  him  with  a smile  and  a reverence. 

“Ah,  so  they  say.  Your  excellent  father  has  van- 
ished. He  is  really  too  modest — honest,  though — 
about  his  incapacity  for  state  secrets.  After  all,  you 
know  it  was  your  Minervaship  which  I came  to  con- 
sult. How  has  this  turbulent  Alexandrian  rascaldom 
been  behaving  itself  in  my  absence  ? ” 

“ The  herd  has  been  eating,  and  drinking,  and  marry- 
ing, as  usual,  I believe,”  answered  Hypatia,  in  a lan- 
guid tone. 

“And  multiplying,  I don’t  doubt.  Well,  there  will 
be  less  loss  to  the  empire  if  I have  to  crucify  a dozen 
or  two,  as  I positively  will,  the  next  riot.  It  is  really 
a great  comfort  to  a statesman  that  the  masses  are  so 
well  aware  that  they  deserve  hanging,  and  therefore 
so  careful  to  prevent  any  danger  of  public  justice  de- 
populating the  province.  But  how  go  on  the  schools  ? ” 
Hypatia  shook  her  head  sadly. 

“Ah,  boys  will  be  boys.  ...  I plead  guilty  myself. 
Video  meliora  proboque,  deteriora  sequor.  You  must 
not  be  hard  on  us.  . . . Whether  we  obey  you  or  not 
in  private  life,  we  do  in  public;  and  if  we  enthrone  you 
queen  of  Alexandria,  you  must  allow  your  courtiers 
and  body  guards  a few  court  licenses.  Now  don’t 
sigh,  or  I shall  be  inconsolable.  At  all  events,  your 
worst  rival  has  betaken  herself  to  the  wilderness,  and 


46 


HYPATIA. 


gone  to  look  for  the  city  of  the  gods  above  the  cata- 
racts.” 

“ Whom  do  you  mean  ? ” asked  Hypatia,  in  a tone 
most  unphilosopliically  eager. 

"Pelagia,  of  course.  I met  that  prettiest  and 
naughtiest  of  humanities  half-way  between  here  and 
Thebes,  transformed  into  a perfect  Andromache  of 
chaste  affection.” 

"And  to  whom,  pray  ? ” 

" To  a certain  Gothic  giant.  What  men  those  bar- 
barians do  breed ! I was  afraid  of  being  crushed  under 
the  elephants  foot  at  every  step  I took  with  him ! ” 

" What ! ” asked  Hypatia,  " did  your  excellency  con- 
descend to  converse  with  such  savages  ? ” 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  he  had  some  forty  stout 
countrymen  of  his  with  him,  who  might  have  been 
troublesome  to  a perplexed  prefect;  not  to  mention 
that  it  is  always  as  well  to  keep  on  good  terms  with 
these  Goths.  Realty,  after  the  sack  of  Rome,  and 
Athens  cleaned  out  like  a beehive  by  wasps,  things 
begin  to  look  serious.  And  as  for  the  great  brute 
himself,  he  has  rank  enough  in  his  way — boasts  of  his 
descent  from  some  cannibal  dog  or  other  — realty 
hardly  deigned  to  speak  to  a paltry  Roman  governor, 
till  his  faithful  and  adoring  bride  interceded  for  me. 
Still,  the  fellow  understood  good  living,  and  we  cele- 
brated our  new  treaty  of  friendship  with  noble  liba- 
tions— but  I must  not  talk  about  that  to  you.  How- 
ever, I got  rid  of  them ; quoted  all  the  geographical 
lies  I had  ever  heard,  and  a great  many  more;  quick- 
ened their  appetite  for  their  fool’s  errand  notably,  and 
started  them  off  again.  So  now  the  star  of  Venus  is 
set,  and  that  of  Pallas  in  the  ascendant.  Wherefore 
tell  me — what  am  I to  do  with  Saint  Firebrand  ? ” 

" Cyril  ? ” 


HYPATIA. 


47 


“ Cyril." 

“Justice.” 

“Ah,  Fairest  Wisdom,  don’t  mention  that  horrid 
word  out  of  the  lecture-room.  In  theory  it  is  all  very 
well;  but  in  poor  imperfect  earthly  practice,  a gov- 
ernor must  be  content  with  doing  very  much  what 
comes  to  hand.  In  abstract  justice,  now,  I ought  to 
nail  up  Cyril,  deacons,  district  visitors,  and  all  in  a 
row,  on  the  sandhills  outside.  That  is  simple  enough; 
but,  like  a great  many  simple  and  excellent  things, 
impossible.” 

“You  fear  the  people  ? ” 

“Well,  ni3r  dear  lady,  and  has  not  the  villanous 
demagogue  got  the  whole  mob  on  his  side  ? Am  I to 
have  the  Constantinople  riots  re-enacted  here  ? I 
really  cannot  face  it;  I have  not  nerve  for  it;  perhaps 
I am  too  lazy.  Be  it  so.” 

Hypatia  sighed.  “Ah,  that  your  excellency  but 
saw  the  great  duel  which  depends  on  you  alone ! Do 
not  fancy  that  the  battle  is  merely  between  Paganism 
and  Christianity -” 

“ Why,  if  it  were,  you  know,  I,  as  a Christian,  under 
a Christian  and  sainted  emperor,  not  to  mention  his 
august  sister ” 

“We  understand,”  interrupted  she,  with  an  impa- 
tient wave  of  her  beautiful  hand.  “Not  even  between 
them;  not  even  between  philosophy  and  barbarianism. 
The  struggle  is  simply  one  between  the  aristocracy 
and  the  mob  — between  wealth,  refinement,  art, 
learning,  all  that  makes  a nation  great,  and  the  sav- 
age herd  of  child-breeders  below,  the  many  ignoble, 
who  were  meant  to  labor  for  the  noble  few.  Shall  the 
Roman  empire  command  or  obey  her  own  slaves  ? is 
the  question  which  you  and  Cyril  have  to  battle  out; 
and  the  fight  must  be  internecine.” 


48 


IIYPATIA. 


“I  should  not  wonder  if  it  became  so,  really,"  an- 
swered the  prefect,  with  a shrug1  of  his  shoulders.  “ I 
expect  every  time  I ride  to  have  my  brains  knocked 
out  by  some  mad  monk." 

“ Why  not,  in  an  age  when,  as  has  been  well  and 
often  said,  emperors  and  consulars  crawl  to  the  tombs 
of  a tent-maker  and  a fisherman,  and  kiss  the  mouldy 
bones  of  the  vilest  slaves  ? Why  not,  among  a people 
whose  God  is  the  crucified  son  of  a carpenter  ? Why 
should  learning,  authority,  antiquity,  birth,  rank,  the 
system  of  empire  which  has  been  growing  up,  fed  by 
the  accumulated  wisdom  of  ages — why,  I say,  should 
any  of  these  things  protect  your  life  a moment  from  the 
fury  of  any  beggar  who  believes  that  the  Son  of  God 
died  for  him  as  much  as  for  you,  and  that  he  is  your 
equal,  if  not  your  superior,  in  the  sight  of  his  low-born 
and  illiterate  deity  ? " * 

“My  most  eloquent  philosopher,  this  may  be  and 
perhaps  is  all  very  true.  I quite  agree  that  there  are 
very  great  practical  inconveniences  of  this  kind  in  the 
new — I mean  the  Catholic  faith;  but  the  world  is  full 
of  inconveniences.  The  wise  man  does  not  quarrel 
with  his  creed  for  being  disagreeable,  any  more  than 
he  does  with  his  finger  for  aching:  he  cannot  help  it, 
and  must  make  the  best  of  a bad  matter.  Only  tell 
me  how  to  keep  the  peace." 

“And  let  philosophy  be  destroyed  ? " 

“ That  it  never  will  be,  as  long  as  Hypatia  lives  to 
illuminate  the  earth;  and,  as  far  as  I am  concerned, 
I promise  you  a clear  stage  and  a great  deal  of  favor; 
as  is  proved  by  my  visiting  you  publicly  at  this  mo- 
ment, before  I have  given  audience  to  one  of  the  four 

* These  are  the  arguments  and  the  language  which  were 
commonly  employed  by  Porphyry,  Julian,  and  the  other  op- 
ponents of  Christianity. 


HYPATIA. 


49 


hundred  bores,  great  and  small,  who  are  waiting  in 
the  tribunal  to  torment  me.  Do  help  me  and  advise 
me.  What  am  I to  do  ? " 

“ I have  told  you/' 

“Ah,  yes,  as  to  general  principles.  But  out  of  the 
lecture-room  I prefer  a practical  expedient.  For  in- 
stance, Cyril  writes  to  me  here — plague  on  him!  he 
would  not  let  me  even  have  a week's  hunting  in  peace 
— that  there  is  a plot  on  the  part  of  the  Jews  to  mur- 
der all  the  Christians.  Here  is  the  precious  document 
— do  look  at  it,  in  pity.  For  aught  I know  or  care, 
the  plot  may  be  an  exactly  opposite  one,  and  the 
Christians  intend  to  murder  all  the  Jews.  But  I must 
take  some  notice  of  the  letter." 

“ I do  not  see  that,  your  excellency." 

“Why,  if  anything  did  happen,  after  all,  conceive 
the  missives  which  would  be  sent  flying  off  to  Con- 
stantinople against  me ! " 

“ Let  them  go.  If  you  are  secure  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  innocence,  what  matter  ? " 

“Consciousness  of  innocence!  I shall  lose  my  pre- 
fecture ! " 

“Your  danger  would  be  just  as  great  if  you  took 
notice  of  it.  Whatever  happened,  you  would  be  ac- 
cused of  favoring  the  Jews." 

“And  really  there  might  be  some  truth  in  the  ac- 
cusation. How  the  finances  of  the  province  would  go 
on  without  their  kind  assistance,  I dare  not  think.  If 
those  Christians  would  but  lend  me  their  money,  in- 
stead of  building  almshouses  and  hospitals  with  it,, 
they  might  burn  the  Jews'  quarter  to-morrow  for 
aught  I care.  But  now " 

“Bub  now,  you  must  absolutely  take  no  notice  of  this 
letter.  The  very  tone  of  it  forbids  you,  for  your  own 
honor  and  the  honor  of  the  empire.  Are  you  to  treat 
4 


IIYPATIA. 


♦50 

with  a man  who  talks  of  the  masses  at  Alexandria 
‘ as  the  flock  whom  the  King-  of  Kings  has  committed 
to  his  rule  and  care  ? ’ Does  your  excellency,  or  this 
proud  bishop,  govern  Alexandria  ?” 

“ Really,  my  dear  lady,  I have  given  up  inquiring.” 

“ But  he  has  not.  He  comes  to  you  as  a person  pos- 
sessing an  absolute  authority  over  two-thirds  of  the 
population,  which  he  does  not  scruple  to  hint  to  you  is 
derived  from  a higher  source  than  your  own.  The 
consequence  is  clear.  If  it  be  from  a higher  source 
than  yours,  of  course  it  ought  to  control  yours  ; and 
you  will  acknowledge  the  root  and  ground  of  every  ex- 
travagant claim  which  he  makes,  if  you  deign  to  reply.” 
"But  I must  say  something,  or  I shall  be  pelted  in 
the  street.  You  philosophers,  however  raised  above 
your  own  bodies  you  may  be,  must  really  not  forget 
that  we  poor  worldlings  have  bones  to  be  broken.” 

“ Then  tell  him,  and  by  word  of  mouth  merely,  that 
as  the  information  which  he  sends  you  comes  from  his 
private  knowledge,  and  concerns  not  him  as  bishop, 
but  you  as  magistrate,  you  can  only  take  it  into  con- 
sideration when  he  addresses  you  as  a private  person, 
laying  a regular  information  at  your  tribunal.” 

" Charming ! queen  of  diplomatists  as  well  as  philoso- 
phers! I go  to  obey  you.  Ah!  why  were  you  not 
Pulcheria  ? No,  for  then  Alexandria  had  been  dark, 
and  Orestes  missed  the  supreme  happiness  of  kissing 
a hand  which  Pallas,  when  she  made  you,  must  have 
borrowed  from  the  workshop  of  Aphrodite.” 

“ Recollect  that  you  are  a Christian,”  answered  Hy- 
patia, half-smiling. 

So  the  prefect  departed : and  passing  through  the 
outer  hall,  which  was  already  crowded  with  Hypatia’s 
aristocratic  pupils  and  visitors,  bowed  his  way  out 
past  them,  and  regained  his  chariot,  chuckling  over 


HYPATIA. 


51 


the  rebuff  which  he  intended  to  administer  to  Cyril, 
and  comforting'  himself  with  the  only  text  of  Scripture 
of  the  inspiration  of  which  he  was  thoroughly  con- 
vinced— “ Sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof/’ 

At  the  door  was  a crowd  of  chariots,  slaves  with 
their  masters’  parasols,  and  the  rabble  of  on-looking 
boys  and  market  folk,  as  usual  in  Alexandria  then, 
as  in  all  great  cities  since,  who  were  staring  at  the 
prefect,  and  having  their  heads  rapped  by  his  guards, 
and  wondering  what  sort  of  glorious  personage  Hy- 
patia might  be,  and  what  sort  of  glorious  house  she 
must  live  in,  to  be  fit  company  for  the  great  governor 
of  Alexandria.  Not  that  there  was  not  many  a sulky 
and  lowering  face  among  the  mob,  for  the  great  ma- 
jority of  them  were  Christians,  and  very  seditious  and 
turbulent  politicians,  as  Alexandrians,  “ men  of  Mace- 
donia,” were  bound  to  be:  and  there  was  many  a 
grumble  among  them,  all  but  audible,  at  the  prefect’s 
going  in  state  to  the  heathen  woman’s  house — heathen 
sorceress,  some  pious  old  woman  called  her — before 
he  heard  any  poor  soul’s  petition  in  the  tribunal,  or 
even  said  his  prayers  in  church. 

Just  as  he  was  stepping  into  his  curricle,  a tall 
young  man,  as  gorgeously  bedizened  as  himself,  lounged 
down  the  steps  after  him,  and  beckoned  lazily  to  the 
black  boy  who  carried  his  parasol. 

“Ah,  Raphael  Aben-Ezra,  my  excellent  friend,  what 
propitious  deity — ahem!  martyr — brings  you  to  Alex- 
andria just  as  I want  you  ? Get  up  by  my  side,  and 
let  us  have  a chat  on  our  way  to  the  tribunal.” 

The  man  addressed  came  slowly  forward  with  an 
ostentatiously  low  salutation,  which  could  not  hide, 
and  indeed  was  not  intended  to  hide,  the  contemptuous 
and  lazy  expression  of  his  face;  and  asked,  in  a drawl- 
ing tone : 


52 


HYPATIA. 


“And  for  what  kind  purpose  does  the  representative 
of  the  Cassars  bestow  such  an  honor  on  the  humblest 
of  his,  etc.,  etc.?  Your  penetration  will  supply  the 
rest.” 

“Don’t  be  frightened;  I am  not  going  to  borrow 
money  of  you,”  answered  Orestes,  laughingly,  as  the 
Jew  got  into  the  curricle. 

“ I am  glad  to  hear  it.  Really,  one  usurer  in  a family 
is  enough.  My  father  made  the  gold,  and  if  I spend 
it,  I consider  that  I do  all  that  is  required  of  a philoso- 
pher.” 

“A  charming  team  of  white  Nisseans,  is  not  this? 
And  only  one  gray  hoof  among  all  the  four.” 

“Yes  . . . horses  are  a bore,  I begin  to  find,  like 
everything  else.  Always  falling  sick,  or  running  away, 
or  breaking  one’s  peace  of  mind  in  some  way  or  other. 
Besides,  I have  been  pestered  out  of  my  life  there  in 
Cyrene,  by  commissions  for  dogs  and  horses  and  bows 
from  that  old  episcopal  Nimrod,  Synesius.” 

“ What,  is  the  worthy  man  as  lively  as  ever  ? ” 

“ Lively  ? He  nearly  drove  me  into  a nervous  fever 
in  three  days.  Up  at  four  in  the  morning,  always  in 
the  most  disgustingly  good  health  and  spirits,  farm- 
ing, coursing,  shooting,  riding  over  hedge  and  ditch 
after  rascally  black  robbers;  preaching,  intriguing, 
borrowing  money;  baptizing  and  excommunicating; 
bullying  that  bully,  Andronicus;  comforting  old  wo- 
men, and  giving  pretty  girls  dowries;  scribbling  one 
half-hour  on  philosophy,  and  the  next  on  farriery;  sit- 
ting up  all  night  writing  hymns  and  drinking  strong 
liquors;  off  again  on  horseback  at  four  the  next  morn- 
ing; and  talking  by  the  hour  all  the  while  about 
philosophic  abstraction  from  the  mundane  tempest. 
Heaven  defend  me  from  all  two-legged  whirlwinds! 
By-the-by,  there  was  a fair  daughter  of  my  nation 


HYPATIA. 


53 


came  back  to  Alexandria  in  the  same  ship  with  me, 
with  a cargo  that  may  suit  your  highness/’ 

"There  are  a great  many  fair  daughters  of  your 
nation  who  might  suit  me,  without  any  cargo  at  all.” 

"Ah,  they  have  had  good  practice,  the  little  fools, 
ever  since  the  days  of  Jeroboam  the  son  of  Rebat. 
But  I mean  old  Miriam — you  know.  She  has  been 
lending  Synesius  money  to  fight  the  black  fellows  with : 
and  really  it  was  high  time.  They  had  burnt  every 
homestead  for  miles  through  the  province.  But  the 
daring  old  girl  must  do  a little  business  for  herself ; so 
she  went  off  in  the  teeth  of  the  barbarians,  right  away 
to  the  Atlas,  bought  all  their  lady  prisoners,  and  some 
of  their  own  sons  and  daughters,  too,  of  them,  for  beads 
and  old  iron;  and  has  come  back  with  as  pretty  a 
cargo  of  Lybian  beauties  as  a prefect  of  good  taste 
could  wish  to  have  the  first  choice  of.  Y ou  may  thank 
me  for  that  privilege.” 

"After,  of  course,  you  had  suited,  yourself,  my  cun- 
ning Raphael  ? ” 

"Rot  I.  Women  are  bores,  as  Solomon  found  out 
long  ago.  Did  I never  tell  you  ? I began,  as  he  did, 
with  the  most  select  harem  in  Alexandria.  But  they 
quarrelled  so,  that  one  day  I went  out  and  sold  them 
all  but  one,  who  was  a Jewess — so  there  were  objec- 
tions on  the  part  of  the  rabbis.  Then  I tried  one,  as 
Solomon  did ; but  my  ‘ garden  shut  up/  and  my  ‘ sealed 
fountain 9 wanted  me  to  be  always  in  love  with  her,  so 
I went  to  the  lawyers,  allowed  her  a comfortable 
maintenance,  and  now  I am  as  free  as  a monk,  and 
shall  be  happy  to  give  your  excellency  the  benefit  of 
any  good  taste  or  experience  which  I may  possess.” 

"Thanks,  worthy  Jew.  We  are  not  yet  as  exalted 
as  yourself,  and  will  send  for  the  old  Erictho  this  very 
afternoon.  Row  listen  a moment  to  base,  earthly,  and 


54 


HYPATIA. 


political  business.  Cyril  has  written  to  me,  to  say 
that  you  Jews  have  plotted  to  murder  the  Christians.” 
“ Well — why  not  ? I most  heartily  wish  it  were  true, 
and  think,  on  the  whole,  that  it  very  probably  is  so.” 

“ By  the  immortal — saints,  man ! you  are  not  seri- 
ous ? ” 

“The  four  archangels  forbid!  It  is  no  concern  of 
mine.  All  I say  is,  that  my  people  are  great  fools, 
like  the  rest  of  the  world ; and  have,  for  aught  I know 
or  care,  some  such  intention.  They  won't  succeed,  of 
course;  and  that  is  all  you  have  to  care  for.  But  if 
you  think  it  worth  the  trouble — which  I do  not — I 
shall  have  to  go  to  the  synagogue  on  business  in  a 
week  or  so,  and  then  I would  ask  some  of  the  rabbis.” 
“Laziest  of  men!  and  I must  answer  Cyril  this 
very  day.” 

“An  additional  reason  for  asking  no  questions  of 
our  people.  Now  you  can  honorably  say  that  you 
know  nothing  about  the  matter.” 

“Well,  after  all,  ignorance  is  a stronghold  for  a poor 
statesman.  So  you  need  not  hurry  yourself.” 

“ I assure  your  excellency  I will  not.” 

“ Ten  days  hence,  or  so,  you  know.” 

“Exactly,  after  it  is  all  over.” 

“And  can’t  be  helped.  What  a comfort  it  is,  now 
and  then,  that  ‘ can’t  be  helped ! ’ ” 

“It  is  the  root  and  marrow  of  all  philosophy.  Your 
practical  man,  poor  wretch,  will  try  to  help  this  and 
that,  and  torment  his  soul  with  ways  and  means,  and 
preventives  and  forestallings:  your  philosopher  quietly 
says — It  can’t  be  helped.  If  it  ought  to  be,  it  will  be : 
if  it  is,  it  ought  to  be.  We  did  not  make  the  world, 
and  we  are  not  responsible  for  it.  There  is  the  sum 
and  substance  of  all  true  wisdom,  and  the  epitome  of 
all  that  has  been  said  and  written  thereon,  from  Philo 


HYPATIA. 


55 


the  Jew  to  Hypatia  the  Gentile.  By  the  way,  here's 
Cyril  coming-  down  the  steps  of  the  Cassareum.  A 
very  handsome  fellow,  after  all,  though  he  is  looking 
as  sulky  as  a hear." 

“With  his  cubs  at  his  heels.  What  a scoundrelly 
visage  that  tall  fellow — deacon,  or  reader,  or  whatever 
he  is  by  his  dress — has ! " 

“There  they  are  — whispering  together.  Heaven 
give  them  pleasant  thoughts  and  pleasanter  faces!" 

“Amen ! " quoth  Orestes,  with  a sneer : and  he  would 
have  said  amen  in  good  earnest,  had  he  been  able  to 
take  the  liberty — which  we  shall — and  listen  to  Cyril's 
answer  to  Peter,  the  tall  reader. 

“ From  Hypatia's,  you  say  ? Why,  he  only  returned 
to  the  city  this  morning." 

“ I saw  his  four-in-hand  standing  at  her  door,  as  I 
came  down  the  Museum-street  hither,  half  an  hour 
ago." 

“And  twenty  carriages  besides,  I don't  doubt  ? " 

“ The  street  was  blocked  with  them.  There ! Look 
round  the  corner  now.  Chariots,  litters,  slaves,  and 
fops — when  shall  we  see  such  a concourse  as  that 
where  it  ought  to  be  ? " 

Cyril  made  no  answer,  and  Peter  went  on — “ Where 
it  ought  to  be,  my  father — in  front  of  your  door  at  the 
Serapeium  ? " 

“ The  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil  know  their  own, 
Peter,  and  as  long  as  they  have  their  own  to  go  to, 
we  cannot  expect  them  to  come  to  us." 

“ But  what  if  their  own  were  taken  out  of  the  way  ? " 

“ They  might  come  to  us  for  want  of  better  amuse- 
ment . . . devil  and  all.  Well,  if  I could  get  a fair 
hold  of  the  two  first,  I would  take  the  third  into  the 
bargain,  and  see  what  could  be  done  with  him.  But 
never,  while  these  lecture-rooms  last — these  Egyptian 


56 


HYPATIA. 


chambers  of  imagery — these  theatres  of  Satan,  where 
the  devil  transforms  himself  into  an  angel  of  light, 
and  apes  Christian  virtue,  and  bedizens  his  ministers 
like  ministers  of  righteousness — as  long  as  that  lecture- 
room  stands,  and  the  great  and  powerful  flock  to  it,  to 
learn  excuses  for  their  own  tyrannies  and  atheisms,  so 
long  will  the  kingdom  of  God  be  trampled  under  foot 
in  Alexandria ; so  long  will  the  princes  of  this  world, 
with  their  gladiators,  and  parasites,  and  money-lenders, 
be  masters  here,  and  not  the  bishops  and  priests  of  the 
living  God.” 

It  was  now  Peter's  turn  to  be  silent,  and  as  the  two, 
with  their  little  knot  of  district  visitors  behind  them, 
walked  moodily  along  the  great  esplanade  which  over- 
looked the  harbor,  and  then  vanished  suddenly  up  some 
dingy  alley  into  the  crowded  misery  of  the  sailors' 
quarter,  we  will  leave  them  to  go  about  their  errand 
of  mercy,  and,  like  fashionable  people,  keep  to  the 
grand  parade,  and  listen  again  to  our  two  fashionable 
friends  in  the  carved  and  gilded  curricle  with  four 
white  blood-horses. 

“A  fine  sparkling  breeze  outside  the  Pharos,  Raphael 
— fair  for  the  wheat-ships  too.” 

“Are  they  gone  yet  ? ” 

“Yes — why?  I sent  the  first  fleet  off  three  days 
ago;  and  the  rest  are  clearing  outward  to-day.” 

“ Oh — ah — so ! Then  you  have  not  heard  from  Hera- 
clian  ? ” 

“Heraclian?  What  the  — blessed  saints  has  the 
count  of  Africa  to  do  with  my  wheat-ships  ? ” 

“ Oh,  nothing.  It's  no  business  of  mine.  Only  he  is 
going  to  rebel.  . . . But  here  we  are  at  your  door.” 

“ To  what  ? ” asked  Orestes,  in  a horrified  tone. 

“ To  rebel,  and  attack  Rome.” 

“ Good  gods — God,  I mean ! A fresh  bore ! Come 


HYPATIA. 


57 


in  and  tell  a poor  miserable  slave  of  a governor — speak 
low,  for  heaven’s  sake ! I hope  these  rascally  grooms 
haven’t  overheard  you.” 

“Easy  to  throw  them  into  the  canal,  if  they  have,” 
quoth  Raphael,  as  he  walked  coolly  through  hall  and 
corridor  after  the  perturbed  governor. 

Poor  Orestes  never  stopped  till  he  reached  a little 


“ Tell  me  this  instant  1 ” 


chamber  of  the  inner  court,  beckoned  the  Jew  in  after 
him,  locked  the  door,  threw  himself  into  an  arm-chair, 
put  his  hands  on  his  knees,  and  sat,  bending  forward, 
staring  into  Raphael’s  face  with  a ludicrous  terror 
and  perplexity. 

“ Tell  me  all  about  it.  Tell  me  this  instant! ” 

“ I have  told  you  all  I know,”  quoth  Raphael,  quietly 
seating  himself  on  a sofa,  and  playing  with  a jewelled 
dagger.  “ I thought,  of  course,  that  you  were  in  the 


58 


HYPATIA. 


secret,  or  I should  have  said  nothing’.  It's  no  business 
of  mine,  you  know.” 

Orestes,  like  most  weak  and  luxurious  men,  Romans 
especially,  had  a wild-beast  vein  in  him — and  it  burst 
forth. 

“Hell  and  furies!  You  insolent  provincial  slave — 
you  will  carry  these  liberties  of  yours  too  far!  Do 
you  know  who  I am,  you  accursed  Jew  ? Tell  me  the 
whole  truth,  or,  by  the  head  of  the  emperor,  I'll  twist 
it  out  of  you  with  red-hot  pincers!” 

Raphael’s  countenance  assumed  a dogged  expres- 
sion, which  showed  that  the  old  Jewish  blood  still  beat 
true,  under  all  its  affected  shell  of  Reo-Platonist  non- 
chalance; and  there  was  a quiet,  unpleasant  earnest 
in  his  smile  as  he  answered : 

“ Then,  my  dear  governor,  you  will  be  the  first  man 
on  earth  who  ever  yet  forced  a Jew  to  say  or  do  what 
he  did  not  choose.” 

“We'll  see!  ” yelled  Orestes.  “ Here,  slaves!  ” And 
he  clapped  his  hands  loudly. 

“ Calm  yourself,  your  excellency,”  quoth  Raphael, 
rising.  “ The  door  is  locked ; the  mosquito  net  is  across 
the  window;  and  this  dagger  is  poisoned.  If  anything 
happens  to  me,  you  will  offend  all  the  Jew  money- 
lenders, and  die  in  about  three  days  in  a great  deal  of 
pain,  having  missed  our  assignation  with  old  Miriam, 
lost  your  pleasantest  companion,  and  left  your  own 
finances  and  those  of  the  prefecture  in  a considerable 
state  of  embarrassment.  How  much  better  to  sit  down, 
hear  all  I have  to  say  philosophically,  like  a true  pupil 
of  Hypatia,  and  not  expect  a man  to  tell  you  what  he 
really  does  not  know.” 

Orestes,  after  looking  vainly  round  the  room  for  a 
place  to  escape,  had  quietly  subsided  into  his  chair 
again;  and  by  the  time  that  the  slaves  knocked  at  the 


HYPATIA. 


59 


door,  he  had  so  far  recovered  his  philosophy  as  to  ask, 
not  for  the  torturers,  but  for  a page  and  wine. 

“Oh,  you  Jews!  ” quoth  he,  trying  to  laugh  off  mat- 
ters. “ The  same  incarnate  fiends  that  Titus  found 
you!” 

“The  very  same,  my  dear  prefect.  Now  for  this 
matter,  which  is  really  important — at  least  to  Gem 
tiles.  Heraclian  will  certainly  rebel.  Synesius  let  out 
as  much  to  me.  He  has  fitted  out  an  armament  for 
Ostia,  stopped  his  own  wheat-ships,  and  is  going  to 
write  to  you  to  stop  yours,  and  to  starve  out  the 
Eternal  City,  Goths,  senate,  emperor,  and  all.  Whether 
you  will  comply  with  his  reasonable  little  request  de- 
pends, of  course,  on  yourself.” 

“And  that,  again,  very  much  on  his  plans.” 

“ Of  course.  You  cannot  be  expected  to — we  will 
eupliemize — unless  it  be  made  worth  your  while.” 
Orestes  sat  buried  in  deep  thought. 

“ Of  course  not,”  said  he  at  last,  half-unconsciously. 
And  then,  in  sudden  dread  of  having  committed  him- 
self, he  looked  up  fiercely  at  the  Jew. 

“And  how  do  I know  that  this  is  not  some  infernal 
trap  of  yours  ? Tell  me  how  you  found  out  all  this,  or 
by  Hercules  ” — he  had  quite  forgotten  his  Christianity 
by  this  time — “by  Hercules  and  the  Twelve  Gods, 
I’ll ” 

“ Don’t  use  expressions  unworthy  of  a philosopher. 
My  source  of  information  was  very  simple  and  very 
good.  He  has  been  negotiating  a loan  from  the  rabbis 
at  Carthage.  They  were  either  frightened  or  loyal, 
or  both,  and  hung  back.  He  knew — as  all  wise  gov- 
ernors know  when  they  allow  themselves  time — that 
it  is  no  use  to  bully  a Jew,  and  applied  to  me.  I never 
lend  money — it  is  unphilosophical:  but  I introduced 
him  to  old  Miriam,  who  dare  do  business  with  the  devil 


60 


HYPATIA. 


himself ; and  by  that  move,  whether  he  has  the  money 
or  not,  I cannot  tell : hut  this  I can  tell,  that  we  have 
his  secret — and  so  have  you  now;  and  if  you  want 
more  information,  the  old  woman,  who  enjoys  an  in- 
trigue as  much  as  she  does  Falernian,  will  get  it  you.” 
"‘  Well,  you  are  a true  friend,  after  all.” 

"Of  course  I am.  Now,  is  not  this  method  of  get- 
ting at  the  truth  much  easier  and  pleasanter  than  set- 
ting a couple  of  dirty  negroes  to  pinch  and  pull  me, 
and  so  making  it  a point  of  honor  with  me  to  tell  you 
nothing  hut  lies  ? Here  comes  Ganymede  with  the 
wine,  just  in  time  to  calm  your  nerves  and  fdl  you 
with  the  spirits  of  divination.  ...  To  the  goddess  of 
good  counsels,  my  lord  ! What  wine  this  is ! ” 

"True  Syrian — fire  and  honey;  fourteen  years  old 
next  vintage,  my  Raphael.  Out,  Hypocorisma!  See 
that  he  is  not  listening.  The  impudent  rascal!  I was 
humbugged  into  giving  two  thousand  gold  pieces  for 
him  two  years  ago,  he  was  so  pretty — they  said  he 
was  only  just  rising  thirteen — and  he  has  been  the 
plague  of  my  life  ever  since,  and  is  beginning  to  want 
the  barber  already.  Now,  what  is  the  count  dream- 
ing of  ? ” 

" His  wages  for  killing  Stilicho.” 

"What,  is  it  not  enough  to  he  count  of  Africa  ?” 

" I suppose  he  sets  off  against  that  his  services  dur- 
ing the  last  three  years.” 

"Well,  he  saved  Africa.” 

"And  thereby  Egypt  also.  And  you,  too,  as  well  as 
the  emperor,  may  he  considered  as  owing  him  some- 
what.” 

" My  good  friend,  my  debts  are  far  too  numerous  for 
me  to  think  of  paying  them.  But  what  wages  does  he 
want  ? ” 

" The  purple.” 


HYPATIA.  61 

Orestes  started,  and  then  fell  intS  thought.  Raphael 
sat  watching  him  awhile. 

“Now,  most  noble  lord,  may  I depart  ? I have  said 
all  I have  to  say;  and  unless  I get  home  to  luncheon 
at  once,  I shall  hardly  have  time  to  find  old  Miriam 
for  you,  and  get  through  our  little  affair  with  her 
before  sunset.” 

“ Stay.  What  force  has  he  ? ” 

" Forty  thousand  already,  they  say.  And  those 
Donatist  ruffians  are  with  him  to  a man,  if  he  can  but 
scrape  together  wherewith  to  change  their  bludgeons 
into  good  steel.” 

"Well,  go.  . . . So.  A hundred  thousand  might 
do  it,”  said  he,  meditating,  as  Raphael  bowed  himself 
out.  “ He  won’t  get  them.  I don’t  know,  though ; the 
man  has  the  head  of  a Julius.  Well,  that  fool  Attalus 
talked  of  joining  Egypt  to  the  Western  Empire.  . . . 
Rot  such  a bad  thought,  either.  Anything  is  better 
than  being  governed  by  an  idiot  child  and  three  cant- 
ing nuns.  I expect  to  be  excommunicated  every  day 
for  some  offense  against  Pulcheria’s  prudery  . . . 
Heraclian  emperor  at  Rome  . . . and  I lord  and  mas- 
ter on  this  side  the  sea  . . . the  Donatists  pitted 
again  fairly  against  the  orthodox,  to  cut  each  other’s 
throats  in  peace  ...  no  more  of  Cyril’s  spying  and 
tale-bearing  to  Constantinople  . . . not  such  a bad 
dish  of  fare.  . . . But  then — it  would  take  so  much 
trouble ! ” 

With  which  words  Orestes  went  into  his  third  warm 
bath  for  that  day. 


62 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  GOTHS. 

For  two  days  the  young’  monk  held  on,  paddling  and 
floating  rapidly  down  the  Nile  stream,  leaving  city 
after  city  to  right  and  left  with  longing  eyes,  and  look- 
ing back  to  one  villa  after  another,  till  the  reaches  of 
the  banks  hid  them  from  his  sight,  with  many  a yearn- 
ing to  know  what  sort  of  places  those  gay  buildings 
and  gardens  would  look  like  on  a nearer  view,  and 
what  sort  of  life  the  thousands  led  who  crowded  the 
busy  quays,  and  walked  and  drove  in  an  endless 
stream  along  the  great  high-roads  which  ran  along 
either  bank.  He  carefully  avoided  every  boat  that 
passed  him,  from  the  gilded  barge  of  the  wealthy 
landlord  or  merchant,  to  the  tiny^  raft  buoyed  up  with 
empty  jars  which  was  floating  down  to  be  sold  at 
some  market  in  the  Delta.  Here  and  there  he  met 
and  hailed  a crew  of  monks  drawing  their  nets  in  a 
quiet  bay,  or  passing  along  the  great  watery  highway 
from  monastery  to  monastery;  but  all  the  news  he 
received  from  them  wras  that  the  canal  of  Alexandria 
was  still  several  days’  journey  belowr  him.  It  seemed 
endless,  that  monotonous  vista  of  the  two  high  clay- 
banks,  with  their  sluices  and  water-wheels,  their  knots 
of  palms  and  date-trees;  endless  seemed  that  weari- 
some succession  of  bars  of  sand  and  banks  of  mud, 
every  one  like  the  one  before  it,  every  one  dotted  with 
the  same  line  of  logs  and  stones  strewn  along  the 


HYPATIA. 


63 


water’s  edge,  which  turned  out,  as  he  approached  them, 
to  be  basking  crocodiles  and  sleeping  pelicans.  His 
eyes,  wearied  with  the  continual  confinement  and  want 
of  distance,  longed  for  the  boundless  expanse  of  the 
desert,  for  the  jagged  outlines  of  those  far-off  hills 
which  he  had  watched  from  boyhood  rising  mysteri- 
ously at  morn  out  of  the  eastern  sky,  and  melting 
mysteriously  into  it  again  at  even,  beyond  which  dwelt 
a whole  world  of  wonders,  elephants  and  dragons, 
satyrs  and  anthropophagi — ay,  and  the  phoenix  itself. 
Tired  and  melancholy,  his  mind  returned  inward  to 
prey  on  itself,  and  the  last  words  of  Arsenius  rose 
again  and  again  to  his  thoughts.  “Was  his  call  of 
the  spirit  or  of  the  flesh  ? ” How  should  he  test  that 
problem  ? He  wished  to  see  the  world  . . . that 
might  be  carnal.  True;  but  he  wished  to  convert  the 
world  . . . was  not  that  spiritual?  Was  he  not 
going  on  a noble  errand  ? . . . thirsting  for  toil,  for 
saintship,  for  martyrdom  itself,  if  it  would  but  come 
and  cut  the  Gordian  knot  of  all  temptations,  and  save 
him— for  he  dimly  felt  that  it  would  save  him — a whole 
sea  of  trouble  in  getting  safe  and  triumphant  out  of 
that  world  into  which  he  had  not  yet  entered  . . . 
and  his  heart  shrank  back  from  the  untried  homeless 
wilderness  before  him.  But  no ! the  die  was  cast,  and 
he  must  down  and  onward,  whether  in  obedience  to 
the  spirit  or  the  flesh.  Oh,  for  one  hour  of  the  quiet 
of  that  dear  Laura  and  the  old  familiar  faces ! 

At  last,  a sudden  turn  of  the  bank  brought  him  in 
sight  of  a gaudily-painted  barge,  on  board  of  which 
armed  men  in  uncouth  and  foreign  dresses  were  chas- 
ing with  barbaric  shouts  some  large  object  in  the 
water.  In  the  bows  stood  a man  of  gigantic  stature, 
brandishing  a harpoon  in  his  right  hand,  and  in  his 
left  holding  the  line  of  a second,  the  head  of  which  was 


64 


HYPATIA. 


fixed  in  the  huge  purple  sides  of  a hippopotamus,  who 
foamed  and  wallowed  a few  yards  down  the  stream. 
An  old  grizzled  warrior  at  the  stern,  with  a rudder  in 
either  hand,  kept  the  boat’s  head  continually  toward 
the  monster,  in  spite  of  its  sudden  and  frantic  wheel- 
ings; and  when  it  dashed  madly  across  the  stream, 
some  twenty  oars  flashed  through  the  water  in  pur- 
suit. All  was  activity  and  excitement,  and  it  was  no 
wonder  if  Pliilammon’s  curiosity  had  tempted  him  to 
drift  down  almost  abreast  of  the  barge,  ere  he  descried, 
peeping  from  under  a decorated  awning  in  the  after 
part,  some  dozen  pair  of  languishing  black  eyes,  turned 
alternately  to  the  game  and  to  himself.  The  serpents ! 
chattering  and  smiling,  with  pretty  little  shrieks 
and  shaking  of  glossy  curls  and  gold  necklaces,  and 
fluttering  of  muslin  dresses,  within  a dozen  yards  of 
him ! Blushing  scarlet,  he  knew  not  why,  he  seized 
his  paddle  and  tried  to  back  out  of  the  snare  . . . 
but  somehow,  his  very  efTorts  to  escape  those  sparkling 
eyes  diverted  his  attention  from  everything  else;  the 
hippopotamus  had  caught  sight  of  him,  and  furious 
with  pain,  rushed  straight  at  the  unoffending  canoe; 
the  harpoon  line  became  entangled  round  his  body, 
and  in  a moment  he  and  his  frail  bark  were  over- 
turned, and  the  monster,  with  his  huge  white  tusks 
gaping  wide,  closed  on  him  as  he  struggled  in  the 
stream. 

Luckily  Philammon,  contrary  to  the  wont  of  monks, 
was  a bather,  and  swam  like  a water-fowl;  fear  he  had 
never  known ; death  from  childhood  had  been  to  him, 
as  to  the  other  inmates  of  the  Laura,  a contemplation 
too  perpetual  to  have  any  paralyzing  terror  in  it,  even 
then,  when  life  seemed  just  about  to  open  on  him  anew. 
But  the  monk  was  a man,  and  a young  one,  and  had 
no  intention  of  dying  tamely  or  unavenged.  In  an 


HYPATIA. 


65 


instant  he  had  freed  himself  from  the  line;  drawn  the 
short  knife  which  was  his  only  weapon,  and  diving 
suddenly,  avoided  the  monster’s  rush,  and  attacked 
him  from  behind  with  stabs,  which,  though  not  deep, 
still  dyed  the  waters  with  gore  at  every  stroke.  The 
barbarians  shouted  with  delight.  The  hippopotamus 
turned  furiously  against  his  new  assailant,  crushing, 
alas!  the  empty  canoe  to  fragments  with  a single  snap 
of  his  enormous  jaws;  but  the  turn  was  fatal  to  him; 
the  barge  was  close  upon  him,  and  as  he  presented  his 
broad  side  to  the  blow,  the  sinewy  arm  of  the  giant 
drove  a harpoon  through  his  heart,  and  with  one  con- 
vulsive shudder  the  huge  blue  mass  turned  over  on  its 
side  and  floated  dead. 

Poor  Pliilammon!  He  alone  was  silent  amid  the 
yells  of  triumph;  sorrowfully  he  swam  round  and 
round  his  little  paper  wreck  ...  it  would  not  have 
floated  a mouse.  Wistfully  he  eyed  the  distant  banks, 
half-minded  to  strike  out  for  them  and  escape  . . . 
and  thought  of  the  crocodiles,  . . . and  paddled  round 
again,  . . . and  thought  of  the  basilisk  eyes;  ...  he 
might  escape  the  crocodiles,  but  who  could  escape 
women  ? . . . and  he  struck  out  valiantly  for  shore, 
. . . when  he  was  brought  to  a sudden  stop  by  find- 
ing the  stem  of  the  barge  close  on  him,  a noose  thrown 
over  him  by  some  friendly  barbarian,  and  himself 
hauled  on  board,  amid  the  laughter,  praise,  astonish- 
ment, and  grumbling  of  the  good-natured  crew,  who 
had  expected  him,  as  a matter  of  course,  to  avail  him- 
self at  once  of  their  help,  and  could  not  conceive  the 
cause  of  his  reluctance. 

Philammon  gazed  with  wonder  on  his  strange  hosts, 
their  pale  complexions,  globular  heads  and  faces,  high 
cheek-bones,  tall  and  sturdj^  figures;  their  red  beards, 
and  vellow  hair  knotted  fantastically  above  the  head; 

5 


66 


HYPATIA. 


their  awkward  dresses,  half  Roman  or  Egyptian,  and 
half  of  foreign  fur,  soiled  and  stained  in  many  a storm 
and  fight,  but  tastelessly  bedizened  with  classic  jewels, 
brooches,  and  Roman  coins  strung  like  necklaces. 
Only  the  steersman,  who  had  come  forward  to  wonder 
at  the  hippopotamus,  and  to  help  in  dragging  the  un- 
wieldy brute  on  board,  seemed  to  keep  genuine  and 
unornamented  the  costume  of  his  race,  the  white  linen 
leggings,  strapped  with  thongs  of  deer-skin,  the  quilted 
leather  cuirass,  the  bearVfur  cloak,  the  only  orna- 
ments of  which  were  the  fangs  and  claws  of  the  beast 
itself,  and  a fringe  of  grizzled  tufts,  which  looked  but 
too  like  human  hair.  The  language  which  they  spoke 
was  utterly  unintelligible  to  Philammon,  though  it 
need  not  be  so  to  us. 

“A  well-grown  lad  and  a brave  one,  Wulf  the  son 
of  Ovida,”  said  the  giant  to  the  old  hero  of  the  bear- 
skin cloak ; “ and  understands  wearing  skins  in  this 
furnace-mouth  of  a climate  rather  better  than  you 
do/’ 

“ I keep  to  the  dress  of  my  forefathers,  Amalric  the 
Amal.  What  did  to  sack  Rome  in  may  do  to  find 
Asgard  in.” 

The  giant,  who  was  decked  out  with  helmet,  cuirass, 
and  senatorial  boots,  in  a sort  of  mongrel  mixture  of 
the  Roman  military  and  civil  dress,  his  neck  wreathed 
with  a dozen  gold  chains,  and  every  finger  sparkling 
with  jewels,  turned  away  with  an  impatient  sneer. 

“Asgard — Asgard!  If  you  are  in  such  a hurry  to 
get  to  Asgard  up  this  ditch  in  the  sand,  you  had  better 
ask  the  fellow  how  far  it  is  thither.” 

Wulf  took  him  quietly  at  his  word,  and  addressed  a 
question  to  the  young  monk,  which  he  could  only  an- 
swer by  a shake  of  the  head. 

“Ask  him  in  Greek,  man.” 


HYPATIA. 


67 


“ Greek  is  a slave’s  tongue.  Make  a slave  talk  to 
him  in  it,  not  me.” 

“ Here — some  of  you  girls ! Pelagia ! you  understand 
this  fellow’s  talk.  Ask  him  how  far  it  is  to  Asgard.” 

“ ?7ou  must  ask  me  more  civilly,  my  rough  hero,” 
replied  a soft  voice  from  underneath  the  awning. 
“Beauty  must  be  sued,  and  not  commanded.” 

“ Come,  then,  my  olive-tree,  my  gazelle,  my  lotus- 
flower,  my — what  was  the  last  nonsense  you  taught 
me  ? — and  ask  this  wild  man  of  the  sands  how  far  it  is 
from  these  accursed  endless  rabbit  burrows  to  Asgard.” 
The  awning  was  raised,  and  lying  luxuriously  on  a 
soft  mattress,  fanned  with  peacocks’  feathers  and 
glittering  with  rubies  and  topazes,  appeared  such  a 
vision  as  Philammon  had  never  seen  before. 

A woman  of  some  two-and -twenty  summers,  formed 
in  the  most  voluptuous  mould  of  Grecian  beauty, 
whose  complexion  showed  every  violet  vein  through 
its  veil  of  luscious  brown.  Her  little  bare  feet,  as  they 
dimpled  the  cushions,  were  more  perfect  than  Aphro- 
dite’s, softer  than  a swan’s  bosom.  Every  swell  of  her 
bust  and  arms  showed  through  the  thin  gauze  robe, 
while  her  lower  limbs  were  wrapped  in  a shawl  of 
orange  silk,  embroidered  with  wreaths  of  shells  and 
roses.  Her  dark  hair  lay  carefully  spread  out  upon 
the  pillow  in  a thousand  ringlets,  entwined  with  gold 
and  jewels;  her  languishing  eyes  blazed  like  diamonds 
from  a cavern  under  eyelids  darkened  and  deepened 
with  antimony;  her  lips  pouted  of  themselves,  by  habit 
or  by  nature,  into  a perpetual  kiss;  slowly  she  raised 
one  little  lazy  hand;  slowly  the  ripe  lips  opened ; and 
in  most  pure  and  melodious  Attic,  she  lisped  her  huge 
lover’s  question  to  the  monk,  and  repeated  it  before 
the  boy  could  shake  off  the  spell  and  answer : 

“ Asgard  ? What  is  Asgard  ? ” 


68 


HYPATIA. 


The  beauty  looked  at  the  giant  for  further  instruc- 
tions. 

“ The  City  of  the  Immortal  Gods,”  interposed  the 
old  warrior,  hastily  and  sternly,  to  the  lady. 

“ The  city  of  God  is  in  heaven,”  said  Philammon  to 
the  interpreter,  turning  his  head  away  from  those 
gleaming,  luscious,  searching  glances. 

His  answer  was  received  with  a general  laugh  by 
all  except  the  leader,  who  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

“It  may  as  well  be  up  in  the  skies  as  up  the  Nile. 
We  shall  be  just  as  likely,  I believe,  to  reach  it  by  fly- 
ing as  by  rowing  up  this  big  ditch.  Ask  him  where 
the  river  comes  from,  Pelagia.” 

Pelagia  obeyed  ...  and  thereon  followed  a con- 
fusion worse  confounded,  composed  of  all  the  impossi- 
ble wonders  of  that  mythic  fairy -land  with  which 
Philammon  had  gorged  himself  from  boyhood  in  his 
walks  with  the  old  monks,  and  of  the  equally  trust- 
worthy traditions  which  the  Goths  had  picked  up  at 
Alexandria.  There  was  nothing  which  that  river  did 
not  do.  It  rose  in  the  Caucasus.  Where  was  the 
Caucasus  ? He  did  not  know.  In  Paradise — in  Indian 
Ethiopia — in  Ethiopian  India.  Where  were  they  ? 
He  did  not  know.  Nobody  knew.  It  ran  for  a hundred 
and  fifty  days*  journey  through  deserts  where  nothing 
but  flying  serpents  and  satyrs  lived,  and  the  very 
lions'  manes  were  burnt  off  by  the  heat. 

“ Good  sporting  there,  at  all  events,  among  these 
dragons,”  quoth  Smid  the  son  of  Troll,  armorer  to  the 
party. 

“ As  good  as  Thor's  when  he  caught  Snake  Midgard 
with  the  bullock's  head,”  said  Wulf. 

It  turned  to  the  east  for  a hundred  days'  journey 
more,  all  round  Arabia  and  India,  among  forests  full 
of  elephants  and  dog-headed  women. 


HYPATIA. 


69 


“Better  and  better,  Smid!”  growled  Wulf,  approv- 
ingly. 

“ Fresh  beef  cheap  there,  Prince  W ulf,  eh  ? ” quoth 
Smid.  “ I must  look  over  the  arrow-heads.” 

To  the  mountains  of  the  Hyperboreans,  where  there 
was  eternal  night,  and  the  air  was  full  of  feathers.  . . . 
That  is,  one  third  of  it  came  from  thence,  and  another 
third  came  from  the  Southern  ocean,  over  the  Moon 
mountains,  where  no  one  had  ever  been,  and  the  re- 
maining- third  from  the  country  where  the  phoenix 
lived,  and  nobody  knew  where  that  was.  And  then 
there  were  the  cataracts,  and  the  inundations — and — 
and — and  above  the  cataracts,  nothing-  but  sand-hills 
and  ruins,  as  full  of  devils  as  they  could  hold  . . . 
and  as  for  Asgard,  no  one  had  ever  heard  of  it  . . . 
till  every  face  grew  longer  and  longer,  as  Pelagia  went 
on  interpreting  and  misinterpreting;  and  at  last  the 
giant  smote  his  hand  upon  his  knee,  and  swore  a great 
oath  that  Asgard  might  rot  till  the  twilight  of  the 
gods  before  he  went  a step  farther  up  the  Nile. 

“Curse  the  monk!”  growled  Wulf.  “How  should 
such  a poor  beast  know  anything  about  the  mat- 
ter ? ” 

“ Why  should  not  he  know  as  well  as  that  ape  of  a 
Roman  governor?”  asked  Smid. 

“Oh,  the  monks  know  everything,”  said  Pelagia. 
“They  go  hundreds  and  thousands  of  miles  up  the 
river,  and  cross  the  deserts  among  fiends  and  mon- 
sters, where  any  one  else  would  be  eaten  up,  or  go  mad 
at  once.” 

“Ah,  the  dear  holy  men ! IPs  all  by  the  sign  of  the 
blessed  cross!”  exclaimed  all  the  girls  together,  de- 
voutly crossing  themselves,  while  two  or  three  of  the 
most  enthusiastic  were  half-minded  to  go  forward  and 
kneel  to  Philammon  for  his  blessing;  but  hesitated, 


70 


HYPATIA. 


their  Gothic  lovers  being-  heathenishly  stupid  and 
prudish  on  such  points. 

“ Why  should  he  not  know  as  well  as  the  prefect  ? 
Well  said,  Smid!  I believe  that  prefect’s  quill  driver 
was  humbug-g-ing-  us  when  he  said  Asg-ard  was  only 
ten  days’  sail  up.” 

“ Why  ? ” asked  Wulf. 

“ I never  g-ive  any  reasons.  What’s  the  use  of  being 
an  Amal,  and  a son  of  Odin,  if  one  has  always  to  be 
giving-  reasons  like  a rascally  Roman  lawyer  ? I say 
the  governor  looked  like  a liar,  and  I say  this  monk 
looks  like  an  honest  fellow;  and  I choose  to  believe 
him,  and  there  is  an  end  of  it.” 

“Don’t  look  so  cross  at  me,  Prince  Wulf;  I’m  sure 
it’s  not  my  fault;  I could  only  say  what  the  monk  told 
me,”  whispered  poor  Pelagia. 

“ Who  looks  cross  at  you,  my  queen  ? ” roared  the 
Amal.  “ Let  me  have  him  out  here,  and  by  Thor’s 
hammer.  I’ll ” 

“ Who  spoke  to  you,  you  stupid  darling-  ? ” answered 
Pelagia,  who  lived  in  hourly  fear  of  thunder  storms. 
“Who  is  going  to  be  cross  with  any  one,  except  I with 
you,  for  mishearing  and  misunderstanding  and  med- 
dling, as  you  are  always  doing  ? I shall  do  as  I threat- 
ened, and  run  away  with  Prince  Wulf,  if  you  are  not 
good.  Don’t  you  see  that  the  whole  crew  are  expect- 
ing you  to  make  them  an  oration  ? ” 

Whereupon  the  Amal  rose. 

“See  you  here,  Wulf  the  son  of  Ovida,  and  warriors 
all!  If  we  want  wealth,  we  shan’t  find  it  among  the 
sand-hills.  If  we  want  women,  we  shall  find  nothing 
prettier  than  these  among  dragons  and  devils.  Don’t 
look  angry,  Wulf.  You  have  no  mind  to  marry  one 
of  those  dog-headed  girls  the  monk  talked  of,  have  you  ? 
Well,  then,  we  have  money  and  women;  and  if  we 


HYPATIA. 


71 


want  sport,  it's  better  sport  killing  men  than  killing 
beasts;  so  we  had  better  go  where  we  shall  find  most 
of  that  game,  which  we  certainly  shall  not  up  this 
road.  As  for  fame  and  all  that,  though  Pve  had 
enough,  there’s  plenty  to  be  got  anywhere  along  the 
shores  of  that  Mediterranean.  Let’s  burn  and  plunder 
Alexandria;  forty  of  us  Goths  might  kill  down  all 
those  donkey-riders  in  two  days,  and  hang  up  that 
lying  prefect  who  sent  us  here  on  this  fool’s  errand. 
Don’t  answer,  Wulf.  I knew  he  was  humbugging  us 
all  along,  but  you  were  so  open-mouthed  to  all  he 
said,  that  I was  bound  to  let  my  elders  choose  for  me. 
Let’s  go  back;  send  over  for  any  of  the  tribes;  send 
to  Spain  for  those  Vandals — they  have  had  enough  of 
Adolf  by  now,  curse  him — I’ll  warrant  them;  get  to- 
gether an  army,  and  take  Constantinople.  I’ll  be 
Augustus,  and  Pelagia,  Augusta;  you  and  Smid  here, 
the  two  Csesars;  and  we’ll  make  the  monk  the  chief  of 
the  eunuchs,  eh  ? — anything  you  like  for  a quiet  life; 
but  up  this  accursed  kennel  of  hot  water  I go  no 
further.  Ask  your  girls,  my  heroes,  and  I’ll  ask  mine. 
Women  are  all  prophetesses,  every  one  of  them.” 

“When  they  are  not  harlots,”  growled  Wulf  to  him- 
self. 

“ I will  go  to  the  world’s  end  with  you,  my  king ! ” 
sighed  Pelagia;  “but  Alexandria  is  certainly  pleasanter 
than  this.” 

Old  Wulf  sprang  up  fiercely  enough. 

“Hear  me,  Almaric  the  Amal,  son  of  Odin,  and 
heroes  all!  When  my  fathers  swore  to  be  Odin’s  men, 
and  gave  up  the  kingdom  to  the  holy  Amals,  the  sons 
of  the  ASsir,  what  was  the  bond  between  your  fathers 
and  mine?  Was  it  not  that  we  should  move  and 
move,  southward  and  southward  ever,  till  we  came 
back  to  Asgard,  the  city  where  Odin  dwells  forever. 


72 


HYPATIA. 


and  gave  into  his  hands  the  kingdom  of  all  the  earth  ? 
And  did  we  not  keep  our  oath  ? Have  we  not  held  to 
the  Amals  ? Did  we  not  leave  Adolf,  because  we  would 
not  follow  a Balth,  while  there  was  an  Amal  to  lead 
us  ? Have  we  not  been  true  men  to  you,  son  of  the 
ACsir  ? ” 

“Ko  man  ever  saw  Wulf,  the  son  of  Ovida,  fail  friend 
or  foe.” 

“ Then  why  does  his  friend  fail  him  ? Why  does  his 
friend  fail  himself?  If  the  bison-bull  lie  down  and 
wallow,  what  will  the  herd  do  for  a leader  ? If  the 
king-wolf  lose  the  scent,  how  will  the  pack  hold  it  ? If 
the  Yngling  forgets  the  song  of  Asgard,  who  will  sing 
it  to  the  heroes  ? ” 

“ Sing  it  yourself,  if  you  choose.  Pelagia  sings  quite 
well  enough  for  me.” 

In  an  instant  the  cunning  beauty  caught  at  the  hint, 
and  poured  forth  a soft,  low,  sleepy  song: 

“ Loose  the  sail,  rest  the  oar,  float  away  down, 

Fleeting  and  gliding  by  tower  and  town  ; 

Life  is  so  short  at  best ! snatch,  while  thou  canst,  thy  rest, 
Sleeping  by  ine  ! ” 

“Can  you  answer  that,  Wulf?”  shouted  a dozen 
voices. 

“ Hear  the  song  of  Asgard,  warriors  of  the  Goths ! 
Did  not  Alaric  the  king  love  it  well ! Did  I not  sing  it 
before  him  in  the  palace  of  the  Caesars,  till  he  swore, 
for  all  the  Christian  that  he  was,  to  go  southward  in 
search  of  the  holy  city  ? And  when  he  went  to  Val- 
halla, and  the  ships  were  wrecked  off  Sicily,  and  Adolf 
the  Balth  turned  back  like  a lazy  hound,  and  married 
the  daughter  of  the  Romans,  whom  Odin  hates,  and 
went  northward  again  to  Gaul,  did  not  I sing  you  all 
the  song  of  Asgard  in  Messina  there,  till  you  swore  to 


HYPATIA. 


73 


follow  the  Amal  through  fire  and  water  until  we  found 
the  hall  of  Odin  and  received  the  mead-cup  from  liis 
own  hand  ? Hear  it  again,  warriors  of  the  Goths!  ” 

“Not  that  song!”  roared  the  Amal,  stopping  his 
ears  with  both  his  hands.  “Will  you  drive  us  blood- 
mad  again,  just  as  we  are  settling  down  into  our  sober 
senses,  and  finding  out  what  our  lives  were  given  us 
for  ? ” 

“ Hear  the  song  of  Asgard ! On  to  Asgard,  wolves 
of  the  Goths!”  shouted  another;  and  a babel  of 
voices  arose. 

“ Haven't  we  been  fighting  and  marching  these  seven 
years  ? ” 

“Haven’t  we  drank  blood  enough  to  satisfy  Odin 
ten  times  over  ? If  he  wants  us,  let  him  come  himself 
and  lead  us ! ” 

“ Let  us  get  our  wind  again  before  we  start  afresh  ! ” 

“ Wulf  the  Prince  is  like  his  name,  and  never  tires; 
he  has  a winter-wolf’s  legs  under  him ; that  is  no  rea- 
son why  we  should  have.” 

“ Haven’t  you  heard  what  the  monk  says  ? We  can 
never  get  over  these  cataracts.” 

“We’ll  stop  his  old-wives’  tales  for  him,  and  then 
settle  for  ourselves,”  said  Smid;  and  springing  from 
the  thwart  where  he  had  been  sitting,  he  caught  up  a 
bill  with  one  hand,  and  seized  Philammon’s  throat 
with  the  other  ...  in  a moment  more,  it  would  have 
been  all  over  with  him.  . . . 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Philammon  felt  a hostile 
grip  upon  him,  and  a new  sensation  rushed  through 
every  nerve,  as  he  grappled  with  the  warrior,  clutched 
with  his  left  hand  the  uplifted  wrist,  and  with  his  right 
the  girdle,  and  commenced,  without  any  definite  aim,  a 
fierce  struggle,  which,  strange  to  say,  as  it  went  on, 
grew  absolutely  pleasant. 


74 


HYPATIA. 


The  women  shrieked  to  their  lovers  to  part  the  com- 
batants, but  in  vain. 

‘'Not  for  worlds!  A very  fair  match  and  a very 
fair  fight!  Take  your  long  legs  back,  Itho,  or  they 
will  be  over  you ! That’s  right,  my  Smid,  don’t  use 
the  knife ! They  will  be  overboard  in  a moment ! By 
all  the  Valkyrs,  they  are  down!  and  Smid  under- 
most ! ” 

There  was  no  doubt  of  it;  and  in  another  moment 
Pliilammon  would  have  wrenched  the  bill  out  of  his 
opponent's  hand,  when,  to  the  utter  astonishment  of 
the  on-lookers,  he  suddenly  loosed  his  hold,  shook  him- 
self free  by  one  powerful  wrench,  and  quietly  retreated 
to  his  seat,  conscience-stricken  at  the  fearful  thirst  for 
blood  which  had  suddenly  boiled  up  within  him  as  he 
felt  his  enemy  under  him. 

The  on-lookers  were  struck  dumb  with  astonish- 
ment; they  had  taken  for  granted  that  he  would,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  have  used  his  right  of  splitting  his 
vanquished  opponent’s  skull — an  event  which  they 
would  of  course  have  deeply  deplored,  but  with  which, 
as  men  of  honor,  they  could  not  on  any  account  inter- 
fere, but  merely  console  themselves  for  the  loss  of  their 
comrade  by  flaying  his  conqueror  alive,  "carving  him 
into  the  blood  eagle,”  or  any  other  delicate  ceremony 
which  might  serve  as  a vent  for  their  sorrow  and  a 
comfort  to  the  soul  of  the  deceased. 

Smid  rose,  with  a bill  in  his  hand,  and  looked  round 
him — perhaps  to  see  what  was  expected  of  him.  He 
half  lifted  his  weapon  to  strike.  . . . Philammon, 
seated,  looked  him  calmly  in  the  face.  . . . The  old 
warrior’s  eye  caught  the  bank,  which  was  now  reced- 
ing rapidly  past  them;  and  when  he  saw  that  they 
were  really  floating  downward  again,  without  an  effort 
to  stem  the  stream,  he  put  away  his  bill,  and  sat  him- 


HYPATIA. 


75 


self  down  deliberately  in  his  place,  astonishing  the  on- 
lookers quite  as  much  as  Philammon  had  done. 

“Five  minutes’  good  fighting,  and  no  one  killed! 
This  is  a shame ! 99  quoth  another.  “ Blood  we  must 
see,  and  it  had  better  be  yours,  master  monk,  than 
your  betters  ” — and  therewith  he  rushed  on  poor  Phi- 
lammon. 

He  spoke  the  heart  of  the  crew;  the  sleeping  wolf 
in  them  had  been  awakened  by  the  struggle,  and  blood 
they  would  have;  and  not  frantically,  like  Celts  or 
Egyptians,  but  with  the  cool,  humorous  cruelty  of  the 
Teuton,  they  rose  all  together,  and  turning  Philammon 
over  on  his  back,  deliberated  by  what  death  he  should 
die. 

Philammon  quietly  submitted — if  submission  have 
anything  to  do  with  that  state  of  mind  in  which  sheer 
astonishment  and  novelty  have  broken  up  all  the  cus- 
tom of  man’s  nature,  till  the  strangest  deeds  and  suffer- 
ings are  taken  as  matters  of  course.  His  sudden 
escape  from  the  Laura,  the  new  world  of  thought  and 
action  into  which  he  had  been  plunged,  the  new  com- 
panions with  whom  he  had  fallen  in,  had  driven  him 
utterly  from  his  moorings,  and  now  anything  and 
everything  might  happen  to  him.  He  who  had  prom- 
ised never  to  look  upon  woman  found  himself,  by  cir- 
cumstances over  which  he  had  no  control,  amid  a 
boatful  of  the  most  objectionable  species  of  that  most 
objectionable  genus — and  the  utterly  worst  having 
happened,  everything  else  which  happened  must  be 
better  than  the  worst.  For  the  rest,  he  had  gone  forth 
to  see  the  world — and  this  was  one  of  the  ways  of  it. 
So  he  made  up  his  mind  to  see  it,  and  be  filled  with  the 
fruit  of  his  own  devices. 

And  he  would  have  been  certainly  filled  with  the 
same  in  five  minutes  more,  in  some  shape  too  ugly  to 


76 


HYPATIA. 


be  mentioned : but,  as  even  sinful  women  have  hearts 
in  them,  Pelagia  shrieked  out: 

“Almaric ! Almaric ! do  not  let  them ! I cannot  bear 
it!” 

“ The  warriors  are  free  men,  my  darling-,  and  know 
what  is  proper.  And  what  can  the  life  of  such  a brute 
be  to  you  ? ” 

Before  he  could  stop  her,  Pelagia  had  sprung  from 
her  cushions,  and  thrown  herself  into  the  midst  of  the 
laughing  ring  of  wild  beasts. 

“ Spare  him ! Spare  him  for  my  sake ! ” shrieked  she. 

“ Oh,  my  pretty  lady ! you  mustn’t  interrupt  war- 
riors’ sport ! ” 

In  a instant  she  had  torn  off  her  shawl  and  thrown 
it  over  Philammon : and  as  she  stood  with  all  the  out- 
lines of  her  beautiful  limbs  revealed  through  the  thin 
robe  of  spangled  gauze — 

“Let  a man  who  dares,  touch  him  beneath  that 
shawl,  though  it  be  a saffron  one ! ” 

The  Goths  drew  back.  For  Pelagia  herself  they  had 
as  little  respect  as  the  rest  of  the  world  had.  But  for 
a moment  she  vras  not  the  Messalina  of  Alexandria, 
but  a woman;  and  true  to  the  old  woman-worshipping 
instinct,  they  looked  one  and  all  at  her  flashing  eyes, 
full  of  noble  pity  and  indignation,  as  well  as  of  mere 
woman’s  terror,  and  drew  back  and  vTiispered  to- 
gether. 

Whether  the  good  spirit  or  the  evil  one  wrould  con- 
quer, seemed  for  a moment  doubtful,  when  Pelagia  felt 
a heavy  hand  on  her  shoulder,  and  turning,  saw  Wulf 
the  son  of  Ovida. 

“ Go  back,  pretty  woman ! Men,  I claim  the  boy. 
Smid,  give  him  to  me.  He  is  your  man.  You  could 
have  killed  him  if  you  had  chospn,  and  did  not;  and 
no  one  else  shall.” 


In  an  instant  she  had  taken  off  her  shawl  and  thrown  it  over  Philammon, 


HYPATIA. 


79 


“ Give  him  us,  Prince  Wulf ! We  have  not  seen  blood 
for  many  a day ! " 

“ You  might  have  seen  rivers  of  it,  if  you  had  had 
the  hearts  to  go  onward.  The  boy  is  mine,  and  a brave 
boy.  He  has  upset  a warrior  fairly  this  day,  and 
spared  him;  and  we  will  make  a warrior  of  him  in 
return/' 

And  he  lifted  up  the  prostrate  monk. 

“ You  are  my  man  now.  Do  you  like  fighting  ? " 

Philammon,  not  understanding  the  language  in 
which  he  was  addressed,  could  only  shake  his  head — 
though  if  he  had  knowm  what  its  import  was,  he  could 
hardly  in  honesty  have  said,  No. 

“ He  shakes  his  head!  He  does  not  like  it!  He  is 
craven ! Let  us  have  him  ! 99 

“ I had  killed  kings  when  you  were  shooting  frogs," 
cried  Smid.  “Listen  to  me,  my  sons!  A coward  grips 
sharply  at  first,  and  loosens  his  hand  after  awhile,  be- 
cause his  blood  is  soon  hot  and  soon  cold.  A brave 
man's  grip  grows  the  firmer  the  longer  he  holds,  be- 
cause the  spirit  of  Odin  comes  upon  him.  I watched 
the  boy's  hands  on  my  throat:  and  he  will  make  a 
man;  and  I will  make  him  one.  However,  we  may  as 
well  make  him  useful  at  once;  so  give  him  an  oar." 

“Well,"  answered  his  new  protector,  “he  can  as  well 
row  us  as  be  rowed  by  us;  and  if  we  are  to  go  back  to 
a cow's  death  and  the  pool  of  Hela,  the  quicker  we  go 
the  better." 

And  as  the  men  settled  themselves  again  to  their 
oars  one  was  put  into  Philammon's  hand,  which  he 
managed  with  such  strength  and  skill  that  his  late 
tormentors,  who,  in  spite  of  an  occasional  inclination 
to  robbery  and  murder,  were  thoroughly  good-natured, 
honest  fellows,  clapped  him  on  the  back,  and  praised 
him  as  heartily  as  they  had  just  now  heartily  intended 


80 


HYPATIA. 


to  torture  him  to  death,  and  then  went  forward,  as 
many  of  them  as  were  not  rowing-,  to  examine  the 
strange  beast  which  they  had  just  slaughtered,  paw- 
ing him  over  from  tusks  to  tail,  putting  their  heads 
into  his  mouth,  trying  their  knives  on  his  hide,  com- 
paring him  to  all  beasts,  like  and  unlike,  which  they  had 
ever  seen,  and  laughing  and  shoving  each  other  about 
with  the  fun  and  childish  wonder  of  a party  of  school- 
boys; till  Smid,  who  was  the  wit  of  the  party,  settled 
the  comparative  anatomy  of  the  subject  for  them : 
“Valhalla!  I’ve  found  out  what  he*s  most  like! 
One  of  those  big  blue  plums,  which  gave  us  all  the 
stomach-ache  when  we  were  encamped  in  the  orchards 
above  Ravenna ! ” 


HYPATIA. 


81 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MIRIAM. 

One  morning  in  the  same  week,  Hypatia’s  favorite 
maid  entered  her  chamber  with  a somewhat  terrified 
face. 

“ The  old  Jewess,  madam — the  hag  who  has  been 
watching  so  often  lately  under  the  wall  opposite.  She 
frightened  us  all  out  of  our  senses  last  evening  by 
peeping  in.  We  all  said  she  had  the  evil  eye,  if  any 
one  ever  had ” 

“Well,  what  of  her  ? ” 

“ She  is  below,  madam,  and  will  speak  with  you.  Not 
that  I care  for  her;  I have  my  amulet  on.  I hope  you 
have  ? ” 

“ Silly  girl ! Those  who  have  been  initiated  as  I 
have  in  the  mysteries  of  the  gods,  can  defy  spirits  and 
command  them.  Do  you  suppose  that  the  favorite  of 
Pallas  Athene  will  condescend  to  charms  and  magic  ? 
Send  her  up.” 

The  girl  retreated,  with  a look  half  of  awe,  half  of 
doubt  at  the  lofty  pretensions  of  her  mistress,  and  re- 
turned with  old  Miriam,  keeping,  however,  prudently 
behind  her,  in  order  to  test  as  little  as  possible  the 
power  of  her  own  amulet  by  avoiding  the  basilisk  eye 
which  had  terrified  her. 

Miriam  came  in,  and  advancing  to  the  proud  beauty, 
who  remained  seated,  made  an  obeisance  down  to  the 
very  floor,  without,  however,  taking  her  eyes  for  an 
instant  off  Hypatia’s  face. 

Her  countenance  was  haggard  and  bony,  with  broad 
6 


82 


HYPATIA. 


sharp-cut  lips,  stamped  with  a strangely  mingled  ex- 
pression of  strength  and  sensuality.  But  the  feature 
about  her  which  instantly  fixed  Hypatia’s  attention, 
and  from  which  she  could  not  in  spite  of  herself  with- 
draw it,  was  the  dry,  glittering,  coal-black  eye  which 
glared  out  from  underneath  the  gray  fringe  of  her 
swarthy  brows,  between  black  locks  covered  with  gold 
coins.  Hypatia  could  look  at  nothing  but  those  eyes; 
and  she  reddened  and  grew  all  but  unphilosophically 
angry,  as  she  saw  that  the  old  woman  intended  her  to 
look  at  them,  and  feel  the  strange  power  which  she 
evidently  wished  them  to  exercise. 

After  a moment’s  silence,  Miriam  drew  a letter 
from  her  bosom,  and  with  a second  low  obeisance  pre- 
sented it. 

“ From  whom  is  this  ? ” 

“Perhaps  the  letter  itself  will  tell  the  beautiful  lady, 
the  fortunate  lady,  the  discerning  lady,”  answered  she, 
in  a fawning,  wheedling  tone.  “ How  should  a poor 
old  Jewess  know  great  folks’  secrets  ? ” 

“ Great  folks  ? ” 

Hypatia  looked  at  the  seal  which  fixed  a silk  cord 
round  the  letter.  It  was  Orestes’;  and  so  was  the 
handwriting.  . . . Strange,  that  he  should  have  chosen 
such  a messenger!  What  message  could  it  be  which 
required  such  secrecy  ? 

She  clapped  her  hands  for  the  maid.  “ Let  this  wo- 
man wait  in  the  ante-room.”  Miriam  glided  out  back- 
ward, bowing  as  she  went.  As  Hypatia  looked  up 
over  the  letter  to  see  whether  she  was  alone,  she 
caught  a last  glance  of  that  eye  still  fixed  upon  her, 
and  an  expression  in  Miriam’s  face  which  made  her, 
she  knew  not  why,  shudder  and  turn  chill. 

“Foolish  that  I am!  What  can  that  witch  be  to 
me  ? But  now  for  the  letter.” 


HYPATIA. 


83 


“ To  the  most  noble  and  most  beautiful,  the  mistress 
of  philosophy,  beloved  by  Athene,  her  pupil  and  slave 
sends  greeting.”  . . . 

“ My  slave ! and  no  name  mentioned.” 

“ There  are  those  who  consider  that  the  favorite  hen 
of  Honorius,  which  bears  the  name  of  the  Imperial 
City,  would  thrive  better  under  a new  feeder:  and  the 
count  of  Africa  has  been  dispatched  by  himself  and 
by  the  immortal  gods  to  superintend  for  the  present 
the  poultry-yard  of  the  Caesars — at  least  during  the 
absence  of  Adolph  and  Placidia.  There  are  those  also 
who  consider  that  in  his  absence  the  Numidian  lion 
might  be  prevailed  on  to  become  the  yoke-fellow  of  the 
Egyptian  crocodile:  and  a farm  which,  ploughed  by 
such  a pair,  should  extend  from  the  upper  cataract  to 
the  pillars  of  Hercules,  might  have  charms  even  for  a 
philosopher.  But  while  the  ploughman  is  without  a 
nymph,  Arcadia  is  imperfect.  What  were  Dionusos 
without  his  Ariadne,  Ares  without  Aphrodite,  Zeus 
without  Hera?  Even  Artemis  has  her  Endymion; 
Athene  alone  remains  unwedded;  but  only  because 
Hephaestus  was  too  rough  a wooer.  Such  is  not  he 
wTio  now  offers  to  the  representative  of  Athene  the 
opportunity  of  sharing  that  which  may  be  with  the 
help  of  her  wisdom,  which  without  her  is  impossible. 
ipuivavra  aovirotGiv*  Shall  Eros,  invincible  for  ages,  be 
balked  at  last  of  the  noblest  game  against  which  he 
ever  drew  his  bow  ? ” . . . 

If  Hypatia's  color  had  faded  a moment  before  under 
the  withering  glance  of  the  old  Jewess,  it  rose  again 
swiftly  enough,  as  she  read  line  after  line  of  this  strange 
epistle : till  at  last,  crushing  it  together  in  her  hand, 
she  rose  and  hurried  into  the  adjoining  library,  where 
Theon  sat  over  his  books. 

“ Father,  do  you  know  anything  of  this  ? Look 


84 


HYPATIA. 


what  Orestes  has  dared  to  send  me  by  the  hands  of  some 
base  Jewish  witch! " And  she  spread  the  letter  before 
him,  and  stood  impatient,  her  whole  figure  dilated 
with  pride  and  anger,  as  the  old  man  read  it  slowly 
and  carefully,  and  then  looked  up,  apparently  not  ill- 
pleased  with  the  contents. 

“ What,  father  ? " asked  she,  half -reproachfully. 
" Do  not  you,  too,  feel  the  insult  which  has  been  put 
upon  your  daughter  ? 99 

“ My  dear  child,"  with  a puzzled  look,  “ do  you  not 
see  that  he  offers  you ■" 

“ I know  what  he  offers  me,  father.  The  empire  of 
Africa.  ...  I am  to  descend  from  the  mountain  heights 
of  science,  from  the  contemplation  of  the  unchangeable 
and  the  ineffable  glories,  into  the  foul  fields  and  farm- 
yards of  earthly  practical  life,  and  become  a drudge 
among  political  chicanery,  and  the  petty  ambitions, 
and  sins,  and  falsehoods  of  the  earthly  herd.  . . . And 
the  price  he  offers  me — me,  the  stainless — me,  the  vir- 
gin— me,  the  untamed — is — his  hand ! Pallas  Athene ! 
dost  thou  not  blush  for  thy  child  ? " 

“ But,  my  child — my  child — an  empire 99 

“ Would  the  empire  of  the  world  restore  my  lost 
self-respect — my  just  pride  ? Would  it  save  my  cheek 
from  blushes  every  time  I recollected  that  I bore  the 
hateful  and  degrading  name  of  wife  ? The  property, 
the  puppet  of  a man— submitting  to  his  pleasure — 
bearing  his  children — wearing  myself  out  with  all  the 
nauseous  cares  of  wifehood — no  longer  able  to  glory 
in  myself,  pure  and  self-sustained,  but  forced  by  day 
and  night  to  recollect  that  my  very  beauty  is  no  longer 
the  sacrament  of  Athene’s  love  for  me,  but  the  play- 
thing of  a man — and  such  a man  as  that ! Luxurious, 
frivolous,  heartless — courting  my  society,  as  he  has 
done  for  years,  only  to  pick  up  and  turn  to  his  own 


HYPATIA. 


85 


base  earthly  uses  the  scraps  which  fall  from  the  festal 
table  of  the  gods!  I have  encouraged  him  too  much 
— vain  fool  that  I have  been!  No,  I wrong  myself! 
It  was  only — I thought — I thought  that  by  his  being 
seen  at  our  doors,  the  cause  of  the  immortal  gods 
would  gain  honor  and  strength  in  the. eyes  of  the  mul- 
titude. ...  I have  tried  to  feed  the  altars  of  heaven 
with  earthly  fuel.  . . . And  this  is  my  just  reward ! I 
will  write  to  him  this  moment ; — return  by  the  fitting 
messenger  which  he  has  sent,  insult  for  insult.” 

"In  the  name  of  Heaven,  my  daughter!  for  your 
father’s  sake ! for  my  sake ! Hypatia ! my  pride,  my 
joy,  my  only  hope!  have  pity  on  my  gray  hairs!  ” 

And  the  poor  old  man  flung  himself  at  her  feet,  and 
clasped  her  knees  imploringly. 

Tenderly  she  lifted  him  up,  and  wound  her  long 
arms  round  him,  and  laid  his  head  on  her  white  shoul- 
der, and  her  tears  fell  fast  upon  his  gray  hairs;  but 
her  lip  was  firm  and  determined. 

“ Think  of  my  pride — my  glory  in  your  glory ; think 
of  me.  . . . Not  for  myself!  You  know  I never  cared 
for  myself!”  sobbed  out  the  old  man.  “But  to  die 
seeing  you  empress ! ” 

“Unless  I die  in  childbed,  father,  as  many  a woman 
dies  who  is  weak  enough  to  become  a slave,  and  sub- 
mit to  tortures  only  fit  for  slaves.” 

“ But — but — ” said  the  old  man,  racking  his  bewil- 
dered brains  for  some  argument  far  enough  removed 
from  nature  and  common  sense  to  have  effect  on  the 
beautiful  fanatic — “ but  the  cause  of  the  gods ! What 
you  might  do  for  it ! . . . Remember  Julian ! ” 

Hypatia’s  arms  dropped  suddenly.  Yes;  it  was 
true ! The  thought  flashed  across  her  mind  with  min- 
gled delight  and  terror.  . . . Visions  of  her  childhood 
rose  swift  and  thick — temples — sacrifices — priesthoods 


86 


HYPATIA. 


— colleges — museums ! What  might  she  not  do  ? What 
might  she  not  make  Africa!  Give  her  ten  years  of 
power,  and  the  hated  name  of  Christian  might  be  for- 
gotten, and  Athene  Pallas,  colossal  in  ivory  and  gold, 
watching  in  calm  triumph  over  the  harbors  of  a heathen 
Alexandria.  . . . But  the  price ! 

And  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  bursting  into 
bitter  tears,  walked  slowly  away  into  her  own  chamber, 
her  whole  body  convulsed  with  the  internal  struggle. 

The  old  man  looked  after  her,  anxiously  and  per- 
plexed, and  then  followed,  hesitating.  She  was  sitting 
at  the  table,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands.  He  did 
not  dare  to  disturb  her.  In  addition  to  all  the  affec- 
tion, the  wisdom,  the  glorious  beauty,  on  which  his 
whole  heart  fed  day  by  day,  he  believed  her  to  be  the 
possessor  of  those  supernatural  powers  and  favors,  to 
which  she  so  boldly  laid  claim.  And  he  stood  watch- 
ing her  in  the  door-way,  praying  in  his  heart  to  all  the 
gods  and  demons,  principalities  and  powers,  from 
Athene  down  to  his  daughter’s  guardian  spirit,  to 
move  a determination  which  he  was  too  weak  to  gain- 
say, and  yet  too  rational  to  approve. 

At  last  the  struggle  was  over,  and  she  looked  up, 
clear,  calm,  and  glorious  again. 

“ It  shall  be.  For  the  sake  of  the  immortal  gods — 
for  the  sake  of  art  and  science,  and  learning  and  phi- 
losophy. ...  It  shall  be.  If  the  gods  demand  a victim, 
here  am  I.  If  a second  time  in  the  history  of  the  ages 
the  Grecian  fleet  cannot  sail  forth  conquering  and  civ- 
ilizing, without  the  sacrifice  of  a virgin,  I give  my 
throat  to  the  knife.  Father,  call  me  no  more  Hypatia; 
call  me  Iphigenia ! ” 

“And  me  Agamemnon  ? ” asked  the  old  man,  at- 
tempting a faint  jest  through  his  tears  of  joy.  “I 
dare  say  you  think  me  a very  cruel  father;  but ” 


HYPATIA* 


87 


“ Spare  me,  father — I have  spared  you.” 

And  she  began  to  write  her  answer. 

“I  have  accepted  his  offer — conditionally,  that  is. 
And  on  whether  he  have  the  courage  or  not  to  fulfil 

that  condition,  depends Do  not  ask  me  what  it  is. 

While  Cyril  is  leader  of  the  Christian  mob,  it  may  be 
safer  for  you,  my  father,  that  you  should  be  able  to 
deny  all  knowledge  of  my  answer.  Be  content.  I 
have  said  this — that  if  he  will  do  as  I would  have  him 
do,  I will  do  as  you  would  have  me  do.” 

“ Have  you  not  been  too  rash  ? Have  you  not  de- 
manded of  him  something  which,  for  the  sake  of  public 
opinion,  he  dare  not  grant  openly,  and  yet  which  he 

may  allow  you  to  do  for  yourself  when  once ” 

“ I have.  If  I am  to  be  a victim,  the  sacrificing 
priest  shall  at  least  be  a man,  and  not  a coward  and  a 
time-server.  If  he  believes  this  Christian  faith,  let 
him  defend  it  against  me ; for  either  it  or  I shall  perish. 
If  he  does  not — as  he  does  not — let  him  give  up  living 
in  a lie,  and  taking  on  his  lips  blasphemies  against  the 
immortals,  from  which  his  heart  and  reason  revolt!” 
And  she  clapped  her  hands  again  for  the  maid-ser- 
vant, gave  her  the  letter  silently,  shut  the  doors  of  her 
chamber,  and  tried  to  resume  her  Commentary  on 
Plotinus.  Alas ! what  were  all  the  wire-drawn  dreams 
of  metaphysics  to  her  in  that  real  and  human  struggle 
of  her  heart  ? What  availed  it  to  define  the  process 
by  which  individual  souls  emanated  from  the  universal 
one,  while  her  own  soul  had,  singly  and  on  its  own  re- 
sponsibility, to  decide  so  terrible  an  act  of  will  ? or  to 
write  fine  words  with  pen  and  ink  about  the  immuta- 
bility of  the  supreme  Reason,  while  her  own  reason 
was  left  there  to  struggle  for  its  life  amid  a roaring 
shoreless  waste  of  doubts  and  darkness?  Oh,  how 
grand,  and  clear,  and  logical  it  had  all  looked  half  an 


88 


HYPATIA 


hour  ago ! And  how  irrefragably  she  had  been  deduc- 
ing from  it  all,  syllogism  after  syllogism,  the  non- 
existence of  evil!  how  it  was  but  a lower  form  of 
good,  one  of  the  countless  products  of  the  one  great 
all-pervading  mind  which  could  not  err  or  change,  only 
so  strange  and  recondite  in  its  form  as  to  excite  an- 
tipathy in  all  minds  but  that  of  the  philosopher,  who 
learnt  to  see  the  stem  which  connected  the  apparently 
bitter  fruit  with  the  perfect  root  from  whence  it  sprung. 
Could  she  see  the  stem  there — the  connection  between 
the  pure  and  supreme  Reason,  and  the  hideous  caresses 
of  the  debauched  and  cowardly  Orestes  ? was  not  that 
evil,  pure,  unadulterated  with  any  vein  of  good,  past, 
present,  or  future  ? . . . 

True,  she  might  keep  her  spirit  pure  amid  it  all; 
she  might  sacrifice  the  base  body,  and  ennoble  the  soul 
by  the  self-sacrifice.  . . . And  yet,  would  not  that  in- 
crease the  horror,  the  agony,  the  evil  of  it — to  her  at 
least,  most  real  evil,  not  to  be  explained  away.  And 
yet  the  gods  required  it.  Were  they  just,  merciful  in 
that  ? Was  it  like  them,  to  torture  her,  their  last  un- 
shaken votary  ? Did  they  require  it  ? Was  it  not  re- 
quired of  them  by  some  higher  power,  of  whom  they 
were  only  the  emanations,  the  tools,  the  puppets — 
and  required  of  that  higher  power  by  some  still  higher 
one — some  nameless,  absolute  destiny  of  which  Orestes 
and  she,  and  all  heaven  and  earth,  were  but  the  vic- 
tims, dragged  along  in  an  inevitable  vortex,  helpless, 
hopeless,  toward  that  for  which  each  was  meant  ? 
And  she  was  meant  for  this!  The  thought  was  un- 
bearable; it  turned  her  giddy.  No!  she  would  not! 
She  would  rebel!  Like  Prometheus,  she  would  dare 
destiny,  and  brave  its  worst ! And  she  sprang  up  to 
recall  the  letter.  . . . Miriam  was  gone;  and  she  threw 
herself  on  the  floor,  and  wept  bitterly. 


HYPATIA. 


89 


And  her  peace  of  mind  would  certainly  not  have 
been  improved  could  she  have  seen  old  Miriam  hurry 
home  with  her  letter  to  a dingy  house  in  the  Jevvs* 
quarter,  where  it  was  unsealed,  read,  and  sealed  up 
again  with  such  marvellous  skill,  that  no  eye  could 
have  detected  the  change;  and  finally,  still  less  would 
she  have  been  comforted  could  she  have  heard  the 
conversation  which  was  going  on  in  a summer-room 
of  Orestes*  palace,  between  that  illustrious  statesman 
and  Raphael  Aben-Ezra,  who  were  lying  on  two  divans 
opposite  each  other,  whiling  away,  by  a throw  or  two  of 
dice,  the  anxious  moments  which  delayed  her  answer. 
“ Trays  again ! The  devil  is  in  you,  Raphael ! ” 

"I  always  thought  he  was/*  answered  Raphael, 
sweeping  up  the  gold  pieces. 

“ When  will  that  old  witch  be  back  ? ** 

“When  she  has  read  through  your  letter  and  Hy- 
patia*s  answer.** 

“ Read  them  ? ** 

“ Of  course.  You  don’t  fancy  she  is  going  to  be  fool 
enough  to  carry  a message  without  knowing  what  it 
is  ? Don’t  be  angry ; she  won’t  tell.  She  would  give 
one  of  those  two  grave-lights  there,  which  she  calls  her 
eyes,  to  see  the  thing  prosper.” 

“ Why?” 

‘‘  Your  excellency  will  know  when  the  letter  comes. 
Here  she  is;  I hear  steps  in  the  cloister.  Now,  one  bet 
before  they  enter.  I give  you  two  to  one  she  asks  you 
to  turn  pagan.” 

“ What  in  ? Negro  boys  ? ” 

“Anything  you  like.” 

“ Taken.  Come  in,  slaves ! ” 

And  Hypocorisma  entered,  pouting. 

“That  Jewish  fury  is  outside  with  a letter,  and  has 
the  impudence  to  say  she  won’t  let  me  bring  it  in!  ” 


90 


HYPATIA. 


" Bring  her  in  then.  Quick ! 77 

“ I wonder  what  I am  here  for,  if  people  have  secrets 
that  I am  not  to  know,”  grumbled  the  spoiled  youth. 

“ Do  you  want  a blue  ribbon  round  those  white  sides 
of  yours,  you  monkey  ? 77  answered  Orestes.  " Because, 
if  you  do,  the  hippopotamus  hide  hangs  ready  outside/7 

“ Let  us  make  him  kneel  down  here  for  a couple  of 
hours,  and  use  him  as  a dice-board/7  said  Raphael, 
“ as  you  used  to  do  the  girls  in  Armenia.77 

“Ah,  you  recollect  that  ? and  how  the  barbarian 
papas  used  to  grumble,  till  I had  to  crucify  one  or  two, 
eh?  That  was  something  like  life!  I love  those  out- 
of-the-way  stations  where  nobody  asks  questions : but 
here  one  might  as  well  live  among  the  monks  in  Ritria. 
Here  comes  Canidia!  Ah,  the  answer  ? Hand  it  here, 
my  queen  of  go-betweens ! 77 

Orestes  read  it, — and  his  countenance  fell. 

"I  have  won  ? 77 

"Out  of  the  room,  slaves!  and  no  listening/7 

" I have  won  then  ? 77 

Orestes  tossed  the  letter  across  to  him,  and  Raphael 
read: 

"The  immortal  gods  accept  no  divided  worship; 
and  he  who  would  command  the  counsels  of  their 
prophetess  must  remember  that  they  will  vouchsafe 
to  her  no  illumination  till  their  lost  honors  be  restored. 
If  he  who  aspires  to  be  the  lord  of  Africa  dare  trample 
on  the  hateful  cross,  and  restore  the  Csesareum  to 
those  for  whose  worship  it  was  built — if  he  dare  pro- 
claim aloud  with  his  lips,  and  in  his  deeds,  that  con- 
tempt for  novel  and  barbarous  superstitions,  which 
his  taste  and  reason  have  already  taught  him,  then  he 
would  prove  himself  one  with  whom  it  were  a glory 
to  labor,  to  dare,  to  die  in  a great  cause.  But  till 
then 77 


HYPATIA. 


91 


And  so  the  letter  ended. 

“ What  am  I to  do  ? ” 

“ Take  her  at  her  word/’ 

“ Good  heavens ! I shall  be  excommunicated!  And 
— and — what  is  to  become  of  my  soul  ? ” 

“ What  will  become  of  it  in  any  case,  my  most  ex- 
cellent lord  ? ” answered  Raphael,  blandly. 

“You  mean — I know  what  you  cursed  Jews  think 
will  happen  to  every  one  but  yourselves.  But  what 
would  the  world  say  ? I an  apostate ! And  in  the 
face  of  Cyril  and  the  populace!  I daren’t,  I tell 
you ! ” 

“No  one  asked  your  excellency  to  apostatize.” 
“Why,  what  ? What  did  you  say  just  now  ? ” 

“ I asked  you  to  promise.  It  will  not  be  the  first 
time  that  promises  before  marriage  have  not  exactly 
coincided  with  performance  afterward.” 

“ I daren’t — that  is,  I won’t  promise.  I believe,  now, 
this  is  some  trap  of  your  Jewish  intrigue,  just  to  make 
me  commit  myself  against  those  Christians,  whom 
you  hate.” 

“I  assure  you,  I despise  all  mankind  far  too  pro- 
foundly to  hate  them.  How  disinterested  my  advice 
was  when  I proposed  this  match  to  you,  you  never 
will  know;  indeed,  it  would  be  boastful  in  me  to  tell 
you.  But  really  you  must  make  a little  sacrifice  to 
win  this  foolish  girl.  With  all  the  depth  and  daring 
of  her  intellect  to  help  you,  you  might  be  a match  for 
Romans,  Byzantines,  and  Goths  at  once.  And  as  for 
beauty — why,  there  is  one  dimple  inside  that  wrist, 
just  at  the  setting  on  of  the  sweet  little  hand,  worth 
all  the  other  flesh  and  blood  in  Alexandria.” 

“By  Jove!  you  admire  her  so  much,  I suspect  you 
must  be  in  love  with  her  yourself.  Why  don’t  you 
marry  her  ? I’ll  make  you  my  prime  minister,  and 


92 


HYPATIA. 


then  we  shall  have  the  use  of  her  wits  without  the 
trouble  of  her  fancies.  By  the  twelve  gods ! If  you 
marry  her  and  help  me,  Pll  make  you  what  you  like ! ” 
Raphael  rose  and  bowed  to  the  earth. 

“ Your  serene  high-mightiness  overwhelms  me.  But 
I assure  you,  that  never  having  as  yet  cared  for  any 
one’s  interest  but  my  one,  I could  not  be  expected,  at 
my  time  of  life,  to  devote  myself  to  that  of  another, 
even  though  it  were  to  yours.” 

“ Candid ! ” 

“ Exactly  so : and  moreover,  whosoever  I may  marry, 
will  be  practically,  as  well  as  theoretically,  my  private 
and  peculiar  property.  . . . Y ou  comprehend.” 

“ Candid  again.” 

“ Exactly  so ; and  waiving  the  third  argument,  that 
she  probably  might  not  choose  to  marry  me,  I beg  to 
remark  that  it  would  not  be  proper  to  allow  the  world 
to  say,  that  I,  the  subject,  had  a wiser  and  fairer  wife 
than  you,  the  ruler;  especially  a wife  who  had  already 
refused  that  ruler’s  complimentary  offer.” 

“By  Jove!  and  she  has  refused  me  in  good  earnest! 
I’ll  make  her  repent  it ! I was  a fool  to  ask  her  at  all ! 
What’s  the  use  of  having  guards,  if  one  can’t  compel 
what  one  wants  ? If  fair  means  can’t  do  it,  foul  shall ! 
I’ll  send  for  her  this  moment ! ” 

“Most  illustrious  majesty,  it  will  not  succeed.  You 
do  not  know  that  woman’s  determination.  Scourges 
and  red-hot  pincers  will  not  shake  her,  alive;  and  dead, 
she  will  be  of  no  use  whatsoever  to  you,  while  she  will 
be  of  great  use  to  Cyril.” 

“ How  ? ” 

“ He  will  be  most  happy  to  make  the  whole  story  a 
handle  against  you,  give  out  that  she  died  a virgin- 
martyr,  in  defense  of  the  most  holy  Catholic  and 
Apostolic  faith,  get  miracles  worked  at  her  tomb,  and 


HYPATIA 


93 


pull  your  palace  about  your  ears  on  the  strength 
thereof.” 

" Cyril  will  hear  of  it  anyhow;  that's  another  di- 
lemma into  which  you  have  brought  me,  you  intrigu- 
ing rascal ! Why,  this  girl  will  be  boasting  all  over 
Alexandria  that  I have  offered  her  marriage,  and  that 
she  has  done  herself  the  honor  to  refuse  me!” 

" She  will  be  much  too  wise  to  do  anything  of  the 
kind;  she  has  sense  enough  to  know  that  if  she  did  so, 
you  would  inform  a Christian  populace  what  condi- 
tions she  offered  you,  and,  with  all  her  contempt  for 
the  burden  of  the  flesh,  she  has  no  mind  to  be  lightened 
of  that  pretty  load  by  being  torn  in  pieces  by  Chris- 
tian monks:  a very  probable  ending  for  her  in  any 
case,  as  she  herself,  in  her  melancholy  moods,  con- 
fesses ! ” 

" What  will  you  have  me  to  do,  then  ? ” 

"Simply  nothing.  Let  the  prophetic  spirit  go  out  of 
her,  as  it  will,  in  a day  or  two,  and  then — I know 
nothing  of  human  nature,  if  she  does  not  abate  a little 
of  her  own  price.  Depend  on  it,  for  all  her  ineff abilities 
and  impassibilities,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  seventh- 
heaven  moonshine  at  which  we  play  here  in  Alexan- 
dria, a throne  is  far  too  pretty  a bait  for  even  Hypatia 
the  Pythoness  to  refuse.  Leave  well  alone  is  a good 
rule,  but  leave  ill  alone  is  a better.  So  now  another 
bet  before  we  part,  and  this  time  three  to  one.  Do 
nothing  either  way,  and  she  sends  to  you  of  her  own 
accord  before  a month  is  out.  In  Caucasian  mules  ? 
Done  ? Be  it  so.” 

"Well,  you  are  the  most  charming  counsellor  for  a 
poor  perplexed  devil  of  a prefect ! If  I had  but  a pri- 
vate fortune  like  you,  I could  just  take  the  money,  and 
let  the  work  do  itself.” 

"Which  is  the  true  method  of  successful  govern- 


94 


HYPATIA. 


ment.  Your  slave  bids  you  farewell.  Do  not  forget 
our  bet.  You  dine  with  me  to-morrow  ? ” 

And  Raphael  bowed  himself  out. 

As  he  left  the  prefect’s  door,  he  saw  Miriam  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street,  evidently  watching’  for  him. 
As  soon  as  she  saw  him,  she  held  on  her  own  side, 
without  appearing’  to  notice  him,  till  he  turned  a 
corner,  and  then  crossing’,  caught  him  eagerly  by  the 
arm. 

“ Does  the  fool  dare  ? ” 

“ Who,  dare  what  ? ” 

“You  know  what  I mean.  Do  you  suppose  old 
Miriam  carries  letters  without  taking  care  to  know 
what  is  inside  them  ? Will  he  apostatize?  Tell  me. 
I am  secret  as  the  grave! ” 

“ The  fool  has  found  an  old  worm-eaten  rag  of  con- 
science somewhere  in  the  corner  of  his  heart,  and  dare 
not.” 

“Curse  the  coward!  And  such  a plot  as  I had  laid! 
I would  have  swept  every  Christian  dog  out  of  Africa 
within  the  year.  What  is  the  man  afraid  of  ? ” 

“ Hell-fire.” 

“ Why,  he  will  go  there  in  any  case,  the  accursed 
Gentile ! ” 

“So  I hinted  to  him,  as  delicately  as  I could;  but, 
like  the  rest  of  the  world,  he  had  a sort  of  partiality 
for  getting  thither  by  his  own  road.” 

“ Coward ! And  whom  shall  I get  now  ? Oh,  if  that 
Pelagia  had  as  much  cunning  in  her  whole  body  as 
Hypatia  has  in  her  little  finger,  I’d  seat  her  and  her 
Goth  upon  the  throne  of  the  Caesars.  But ” 

“ But  she  has  five  senses,  and  just  enough  wit  to  use 
them,  eh  ? ” 

“Don’t  laugh  at  her  for  that,  the  darling.  I do  de- 
light in  her,  after  all.  It  warms  even  my  old  blood  to 


HYPATIA. 


95 


see  how  thoroughly  she  knows  her  business,  and  how 
she  enjoys  it,  like  a true  daughter  of  Eve/" 

“ She  has  been  your  most  successful  pupil,  certainly, 
mother.  You  may  well  be  proud  of  her/" 

The  old  hag  chuckled  to  herself  awhile;  and  then 
suddenly  turning  to  Raphael— 

“ See  here;  I have  a present  for  you ; ""  and  she  pulled 
out  a magnificent  ring. 

“ Why,  mother,  you  are  always  giving  me  presents. 
It  was  but  a mouth  ago  you  sent  me  this  poisoned 
dagger.’" 

“ Why  not,  eh — why  not?  Why  should  not  Jew 
give  to  Jew  ? Take  the  old  woman’s  ring!  ” 

“ What  a glorious  opal!  ” 

“Ah,  this  is  an  opal,  indeed.  And  the  unspeakable 
name  upon  it;  just  like  Solomon’s  own.  Take  it,  I say. 
Whosoever  wears  that  never  need  fear  fire,  steel,  poi- 
son, or  woman’s  eye.” 

“Your  own  included,  eh  ? ” 

“ Take  it,  I say ! ” and  Miriam  caught  his  hand,  and 
forced  the  ring  on  his  finger.  “There!  Now  you’re 
safe.  And  now  call  me  mother  again.  I like  it.  I 
don’t  know  why,  but  I like  it.  And— Raphael  Aben- 
Ezra — don’t  laugh  at  me  and  call  me  witch  and  hag, 
as  you  often  do.  I don’t  care  about  it  from  any  one 
else;  I’m  accustomed  to  it.  But  when  you  do  it,  I 
always  long  to  stab  you.  That’s  why  I gave  you  the 
dagger.  I used  to  wear  it;  and  I was  afraid  I might 
be  tempted  to  use  it  some  day,  when  the  thought  came 
across  me  how  handsome  you’d  look,  and  how  quiet, 
when  you  were  dead,  and  your  soul  up  there  so  happy 
in  Abraham’s  bosom,  watching  all  the  Gentiles  frying 
and  roasting  forever  down  below.  Don’t  laugh  at  me, 
I say;  and  don’t  thwart  me!  I may  make  you  the 
emperor’s  prime  minister,  some  day.  I can  if  I choose.” 


96 


HYPATIA. 


“ Heaven  forbid ! ” said  Raphael,  laughing*. 

“ Don’t  laugh.  1 cast  your  nativity  last  night,  and 
I know  you  have  no  cause  to  laugh.  A great  danger 
hangs  over  you,  and  a deep  temptation.  And  if  you 
weather  this  storm,  you  may  be  chamberlain,  prime 
minister,  emperor,  if  you  will.  And  you  shall  be — by 
the  four  archangels,  you  shall ! ” 

And  the  old  woman  vanished  down  a by-lane,  leav- 
ing Raphael  utterly  bewildered. 

“ Moses  and  the  prophets ! Does  the  old  lady  intend 
to  marry  me  ? What  can  there  be  in  this  very  lazy 
and  selfish  personage  who  bears  my  name,  to  excite 
so  romantic  an  affection  ? W ell,  Raphael  Aben-Ezra, 
thou  hast  one  more  friend  in  the  world  besides  Bran  the 
mastiff;  and  therefore  one  more  trouble — seeing  that 
friends  always  expect  a due  return  of  affection  and 
good  offices,  and  what  not.  I wonder  whether  the  old 
lady  has  been  getting  into  a scrape  kidnapping,  and 
wants  my  patronage  to  help  her  out  of  it.  . . . Three- 
quarters  of  a mile  of  roasting  sun  between  me  and 
home ! . . . I must  hire  a gig,  or  a litter,  or  something, 
off  the  next  stand  . . . with  a driver  who  has  been 
eating  onions  . . . and  of  course  there  is  not  a 
stand  for  the  next  half-mile.  Oh,  divine  ether!  as 
Prometheus  has  it,  and  ye  swift-winged  breezes  (I  wish 
there  were  any  here),  when  will  it  all  be  over?  Three- 
and-thirty  years  have  I endured  already  of  this  babel 
of  knaves  and  fools;  and  with  this  abominable  good 
health  of  mine,  which  won’t  even  help  me  with  gout  or 
indigestion,  I am  likely  to  have  three-and-thirty  years 
more  of  it.  ...  I know  nothing,  and  I care  for  nothing, 
and  I expect  nothing,  and  I actually  can’t  take  the 
trouble  to  prick  a hole  in  myself,  and  let  the  very 
small  amount  of  wits  out,  to  see  something  really 


HYPATIA. 


97 

worth  seeing,  and  try  its  strength  at  something  really 
worth  doing — if,  after  all,  the  other  side  the  grave 
does  not  turn  out  to  he  just  as  stupid  as  this  one.  . . . 
When  will  it  be  all  over,  and  I in  Abraham's  bosom — 
or  any  one  else's,  provided  it  be  not  a woman's  ? " 

7 


98 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

A DAY  IN  ALEXANDRIA. 

In  the  mean  while,  Philatnmon,  with  his  hosts,  the 
Goths,  had  been  slipping’  down  the  stream.  Passing, 
one  after  another,  world-old  cities  now  dwindled  to  de- 
caying towns,  and  numberless  canal-mouths,  now  fast 
falling  into  ruin  with  the  fields  to  which  they  insured 
fertility,  under  the  pressure  of  Roman  extortion  and 
misrule,  they  had  entered  one  evening  the  mouth  of 
the  great  canal  of  Alexandria,  slid  easily  all  night 
across  the  star-bespangled  shadows  of  Lake  Mareotis, 
and  found  themselves  when  the  next  morning  dawned 
among  the  countless  masts  and  noisy  quays  of  the 
greatest  seaport  in  the  world.  The  motley  crowd  of 
foreigners,  the  hubbub  of  all  dialects  from  the  Crimea 
to  Cadiz,  the  vast  piles  of  merchandise,  and  heaps  of 
wheat,  lying  unsheltered  in  that  rainless  air,  the  huge 
bulk  of  the  corn -ships  lading  for  Rome,  whose  tall 
sides  rose  story  over  story,  like  floating  palaces,  above 
the  building  of  some  inner  dock — these  sights,  and  a 
hundred  more,  made  the  young  monk  think  that  the 
world  did  not  look  at  first  sight  a thing  to  be  despised. 
In  front  of  heaps  of  fruit,  fresh  from  the  market-boats, 
black  groups  of  glossy  negro  slaves  were  basking  and 
laughing  on  the  quay,  looking  anxiously  and  coquet- 
tishly  round  in  hopes  of  a purchaser:  they  evidently 
did  not  think  the  change  from  desert  toil  to  city  lux- 
uries a change  for  the  worse.  Philammon  turned  away 


HYPATIA. 


99 


his  eyes  from  beholding-  vanity;  but  only  to  meet  fresh 
vanity  wheresoever  they  fell.  He  felt  crushed  by  that 
multitude  of  new  objects,  stunned  by  the  din  around; 
and  scarcely  recollected  himself  enoug-h  to  seize  the 
first  opportunity  of  escaping  from  his  dangerous  com- 
panions. 

“Holloa!”  roared  Smid  the  armorer,  as  he  scram- 
bled on  to  the  steps  of  the  slip ; “ you  are  not  going  to 
run  away  without  bidding  us  good-by  ? ” 

“ Stop  with  me,  boy ! ” said  old  W ulf.  “ I saved 
you ; and  you  are  my  man.” 

Philammon  turned  and  hesitated. 

“ I am  a monk,  and  God's  man.” 

“You  can  be  that  anywhere.  I will  make  you  a 
warrior.” 

“ The  weapons  of  my  warfare  are  not  flesh  and  blood, 
but  prayer  and  fasting,”  answered  poor  Philammon, 
who  felt  already  that  he  should  have  ten  times  more 
need  of  the  said  weapons  in  Alexandria  than  ever  he 
had  had  in  the  desert.  . . . “Let  me  go!  I am  not 
made  for  your  life!  I thank  you,  bless  you!  I will 
pray  for  you,  sir ! but  let  me  go ! ” 

“ Curse  the  craven  hound ! ” roared  half  a dozen 
voices.  “ W hy  did  you  not  let  us  have  our  will  with 
him,  Prince  Wulf?  You  might  have  expected  such 
gratitude  from  a monk.” 

“He  owes  me  my  share  of  the  sport,”  quoth  Smid. 
“And  here  it  is  ! ” And  a hatchet,  thrown  with  prac- 
ticed aim,  whistled  right  for  Philammon’s  head — he 
had  just  time  to  swerve,  and  the  weapon  struck  and 
snapped  against  the  granite  wall  behind. 

“Well  saved!”  said  Wulf,  coolly,  while  the  sailors 
and  market-women  above  yelled  murder,  and  the  cus- 
tom-house officers,  and  other  constables  and  catch-polls 
of  the  harbor  rushed  to  the  place — and  retired  again 


100 


HYPATIA. 


quietly  at  the  thunder  of  the  Amal  from  the  boat’s 
stern : 

“Never  mind,  my  good  fellows!  we’re  only  Goths; 
and  on  a visit  to  the  prefect,  too.” 

“ Only  Goths,  my  donkey-riding  friends ! ” echoed 
Smid,  and  at  that  ominous  name  the  whole  posse  comi- 
tatus  tried  to  look  unconcerned,  and  found  suddenly 
that  their  presence  was  absolutely  required  in  an  op- 
posite direction. 

“Let  him  go,”  said  Wulf,  as  he  stalked  up  the  steps. 
“ Let  the  boy  go.  I never  set  my  heart  on  any  man 
yet,”  he  growled  to  himself  in  an  under  voice,  “ but 
what  he  disappointed  me — and  I must  not  expect 
more  from  this  fellow.  Come,  men,  ashore,  and  get 
drunk ! ” 

Philammon,  of  course,  now  that  he  had  leave  to  go, 
longed  to  stay — at  all  events,  he  must  go  back  and 
thank  his  hosts,  He  turned  unwillingly  to  do  so,  as 
hastily  as  he  could,  and  found  Pelagia  and  her  gigan- 
tic lover  just  entering  a palanquin.  With  downcast 
eyes  he  approached  the  beautiful  basilisk,  and  stam- 
mered out  some  commonplace;  and  she,  full  of  smiles, 
turned  to  him  at  once. 

“Tell  us  more  about  yourself  before  we  part.  You 
speak  such  beautiful  Greek — true  Athenian.  It  is 
quite  delightful  to  hear  one’s  own  accent  again.  Were 
you  ever  at  Athens  ? ” 

“ When  I was  a child;  I recollect — that  is,  I think ” 

“ What  ? ” asked  Pelagia,  eagerly. 

“A  great  house  in  Athens — and  a great  battle  there 
— and  coming  to  Egypt  in  a ship.” 

“ Heavens ! ” said  Pelagia,  and  paused.  . . . “ How 
strange ! Girls,  who  said  he  was  like  me  ? ” 

“ I’m  sure  we  meant  no  harm,  if  we  did  say  it  in  a 
joke,”  pouted  one  of  the  attendants. 


HYPATIA. 


101 


“Like  me!  you  must  come  and  see  us.  I have 
something*  to  say  to  you.  . . . You  must  !” 

Philammon  misinterpreted  the  intense  interest  of 
her  tone,  and  if  he  did  not  shrink  back,  gave  some  in- 
voluntary gesture  of  reluctance.  Pelagia  laughed 
aloud. 

“ Don’t  be  vain  enough  to  suspect,  foolish  boy,  but 
come ! Don’t  you  think  that  I have  nothing  to  talk 
about  but  nonsense  ? Come  and  see  me.  It  may  be 
better  for  you.  I live  in ,”  and  she  named  a fash- 

ionable street,  which  Philammon,  though  he  inwardly 
vowed  not  to  accept  the  invitation,  somehow  could  not 
help  remembering. 

“Do  leave  the  wild  man,  and  come,”  growled  the 
Amal  from  within  the  palanquin.  “You  are  not  going 
to  turn  nun,  I hope  ? ” 

“Not  while  the  first  man  I ever  met  in  the  world 
stays  in  it,”  answered  Pelagia,  as  she  skipped  into  the 
palanquin,  taking  care  to  show  the  most  lovely  white 
heel  and  ankle,  and,  like  the  Parthian,  send  a random 
arrow  as  she  retreated.  But  the  dart  was  lost  on 
Philammon,  who  had  been  already  hustled  away  by 
the  bevy  of  laughing  attendants,  amid  baskets,  dress- 
ing-cases, and  bird-cages,  and  was  fain  to  make  his 
escape  into  the  babel  round,  and  inquire  his  way  to  the 
patriarch’s  house. 

“ Patriarch’s  house  ? ” answered  the  man  whom  he 
first  addressed,  a little  lean,  swarthy  fellow,  with 
merry  black  eyes,  who  with  a basket  of  fruit  at  his 
feet  was  sunning  himself  on  a balk  of  timber,  medi- 
tatively chewing  the  papyrus  cane,  and  examining  the 
strangers  with  a look  of  absurd  sagacity.  “ I know 
it ; without  a doubt  I know  it ; all  Alexandria  has  good 
reason  to  know  it.  Are  you  a monk  ? ” 

“Yes.” 


102 


HYPATIA. 


“ Then  ask  your  way  of  the  monks  • you  won’t  go  far 
without  finding  one.” 

“ But  I do  not  even  know  the  right  direction.  What 
is  your  grudge  against  monks,  my  good  man  ?” 

“Look  here,  my  youth:  you  seem  too  ingenuous  for 
a monk.  Don’t  flatter  yourself  that  it  will  last.  If 
you  can  wear  the  sheepskin,  and  haunt  the  churches 
here  for  a month,  without  learning  to  lie,  and  slander, 
and  hoot,  and  perhaps  play  your  part  in  a sedition- 


A little  lean,  swarthy  fellow,  with  merry  black  eyes. 

and-murder  satyric  drama — why,  you  are  a better 
man  than  I take  you  for.  I,  sir,  am  a Greek,  and  a 
philosopher;  though  the  whirlpool  of  matter  may 
have,  and  indeed  has,  involved  my  ethereal  spark  in 
the  body  of  a porter.  Therefore,  youth,”  continued  the 
little  man,  starting  up  upon  his  balk  like  an  excited 
monkey  and  stretching  out  one  oratorio  paw,  “ I bear 
a treble  hatred  to  the  monkish  tribe.  First,  as  a man 
and  a husband ; . . . for  as  for  the  smiles  of  beauty, 
or  otherwise — such  as  I have,  I have ; and  the  monks, 


HYPATIA. 


103 


if  they  had  their  wicked  will,  would  leave  neither  men 
nor  women  in  the  world.  Sir,  they  would  exterminate 
the  human  race  in  a single  generation,  by  a voluntary 
suicide!  Secondly,  as  a porter;  for  if  all  men  turned 
monks,  nobody  would  be  idle,  and  the  profession  of 
portering  would  be  annihilated.  Thirdly,  sir,  as  a 
philosopher;  for  as  the  false  coin  is  odious  to  the  true, 
so  is  the  irrational  and  animal  asceticism  of  the  monk 
to  the  logical  and  methodic  self-restraint  of  one  who, 
like  your  humblest  of  philosophers,  aspires  to  a life 
according  to  the  pure  reason.” 

“And  pray,”  asked  Philammon,  half-laughing,  “ who 
has  been  your  tutor  in  philosophy  ? ” 

“The  fountain  of  classic  wisdom,  Hypatia  herself. 
As  the  ancient  sage — the  name  is  unimportant  to  a 
monk — pumped  water  nightly  that  be  might  study  by 
day,  so.  I,  'the  guardian  of  cloaks  and  parasols  at  the 
sacred  doors  of  her  lecture-room,  imbibe  celestial  knowl- 
edge. From  my  youth  I felt  in  me  a soul  above  the 
matter-entangled  herd.  She  revealed  to  me  the  glori- 
ous fact,  that  I am  a spark  of  divinity  itself.  A fallen 
star,  I am,  sir!”  continued  he,  pensively,  stroking  his 
lean  stomach — “a  fallen  star!  fallen,  if  the  dignity  of 
philosophy  will  allow  of  the  simile,  among  the  hogs 
of  the  lower  world — indeed,  even  into  the  hog-bucket 
itself.  Well,  after  all,  I will  show  you  the  way  to  the 
Archbishop’s.  There  is  a philosophic  pleasure  in  open- 
ing one’s  treasures  to  the  modest  young.  Perhaps 
you  will  assist  me  by  carrying  this  basket  of  fruit  ? ” 
And  the  little  man  jumped  up,  put  his  basket  on  Phi- 
lammon’s  head,  and  trotted  off  up  a neighboring  street. 

Philammon  followed,  half-contemptuous,  half-won- 
dering at  what  this  philosophy  might  be,  which  could 
feed  the  self-conceit  of  anything  so  abject  as  his  ragged 
little  apish  guide ; but  the  novel  roar  and  whirl  of  the 


104 


HYPATIA. 


street,  the  perpetual  stream  of  busy  faces,  the  line  of 
curricles,  palanquins,  laden  asses,  camels,  elephants, 
which  met  and  passed  him,  and  squeezed  him  up  steps 
and  into  doorways,  as  they  threaded  their  way  through 
the  great  Moon  gate  into  the  ample  street  beyond, 
drove  everything  from  his  mind  but  wondering  curi- 
osity, and  a vague,  helpless  dread  of  that  great  living 
wilderness,  more  terrible  than  any  dead  wilderness  of 
sand  which  he  had  left  behind.  Already  he  longed  for 
the  repose,  the  silence  of  the  Laura — for  faces  which 
knew  him  and  smiled  upon  him;  but  it  was  too  late  to 
turn  back  now.  His  guide  held  on  for  more  than  a 
mile  up  the  great  main  street,  crossed  in  the  centre  of 
the  city,  at  right  angles,  by  one  equally  magnificent, 
at  each  end  of  which,  miles  away,  appeared,  dim  and 
distant  over  the  heads  of  the  living  stream  of  passen- 
gers, the  3rellow  sand-hills  of  the  desert;  while  at  the 
end  of  the  vista  in  front  of  them  gleamed  the  blue 
harbor,  through  a network  of  countless  masts. 

At  last  they  reached  the  quay  at  the  opposite  end 
of  the  street;  and  there  burst  on  Philammon^s  aston- 
ished eyes  a vast  semicircle  of  blue  sea,  fringed  with 
palaces  and  towers.  . . . He  stopped  involuntarily,  and 
his  little  guide  stopped  also  and  looked  askance  at  the 
young  monk,  to  watch  the  effect  which  the  great  pano- 
rama should  produce  on  him. 

“ There!  Behold  our  works!  Us  Greeks!  us  be- 
nighted heathens ! Look  at  it  and  feel  yourself  what 
you  are,  a very  small,  conceited,  ignorant  young  per- 
son, who  fancies  that  your  religion  gives  you  a right 
to  despise  every  one  else.  Did  Christians  make  all 
this?  Did  Christians  build  that  Pharos  there  on  the 
left  horn — wonder  of  the  world  ? Did  Christians  raise 
that  mile-long  mole  which  runs  toward  the  land,  with 
its  two  draw-bridges,  connecting  the  two  ports?  Did 


HYPATIA. 


105 


Christians  build  that  esplanade,  or  this  gate  of  the 
Sun  above  our  heads  ? Or  that  Csesareum  on  our 
right  here  ? Look  at  those  obelisks  before  it ! ” And 
he  pointed  upward  to  those  two  world-famous  ones, 
one  of  which  still  lies  on  its  ancient  site,  as  Cleopatra’s 
needle.  “ Look  up ! look  up,  I say,  and  feel  small,  very 
small  indeed ! Did  Christians  raise  them,  or  engrave 
them  from  base  to  point  with  the  wisdom  of  the  an- 
cients ? Did  Christians  build  that  museum  next  to  it, 
or  design  its  statues  and  its  frescoes — now,  alas ! re- 
echoing no  more  to  the  hummings  of  the  Attic  bee  ? 
Did  they  pile  up  out  of  the  waves  that  palace  beyond 
it,  or  that  exchange;  or  fill  that  Temple  of  Neptune 
with  breathing  brass  and  blushing  marble  ? Did  they 
build  that  Timonium  on  the  point,  where  Anthony, 
worsted  at  Actium,  forgot  his  shame  in  Cleopatra’s 
arms  ? Did  they  quarry  out  that  Island  of  Antirrhodus 
into  a nest  of  docks,  or  cover  those  waters  with  the 
sails  of  every  nation  under  heaven  ? Speak ! Thou 
son  of  bats  and  moles — thou  six  feet  of  sand — thou 
mummy  out  of  the  cliff  caverns  ! Can  monks  do  works 
like  these  ? ” 

“ Other  men  have  labored,  and  we  have  entered  into 
their  labors,”  answered  Philammon,  trying  to  seem  as 
unconcerned  as  he  could.  He  was,  indeed,  too  utterly 
astonished  to  be  angry  at  anything.  The  overwhelm- 
ing vastness,  multiplicity,  and  magnificence  of  the 
whole  scene;  the  range  of  buildings,  such  as  mother 
earth  never,  perhaps,  carried  on  her  lap  before  or 
since,  the  extraordinary  variety  of  form — the  pure 
Doric  and  Ionic  of  the  earlier  Ptolemies,  the  barbaric 
and  confused  gorgeousness  of  the  later  Roman,  and 
here  and  there  an  imitation  of  the  grand  elephantic 
style  of  old  Egypt,  its  gaudy  colors  relieving,  while 
they  deepened,  the  effect  of  its  massive  and  simple 


106 


HYPATIA. 


outlines;  the  eternal  repose  of  that  great  belt  of  stone 
contrasting  with  the  restless  ripple  of  the  glittering 
harbor,  and  the  busy  sails  which  crowded  out  into  the 
sea  beyond,  like  white  doves  taking  their  flight  into 
boundless  space — all  dazzled,  overpowered,  saddened 
him.  . . . This  was  the  world.  . . . This  was  the  world. 
. . . Was  it  not  beautiful  ? . . . Must  not  men  who  made 
all  this  have  been — if  not  great  . . . 3^et  ...  he  knew 
not  what  ? Surely  they  had  great  souls  and  noble 
thoughts  in  them!  Surely  there  was  something  god- 
like in  being  able  to  create  such  things!  Not  for 
themselves  alone,  too : but  for  a nation — for  genera- 
tions yet  unborn.  . . . And  there  was  the  sea  . . . and 
beyond  it,  nations  of  men  innumerable.  . . . His  imag- 
ination was  dizzy  thinking  of  them.  . . . Were  they  all 
doomed — lost  ? . . . Had  God  no  love  for  them  ? 

At  last,  recovering  himself,  he  recollected  his  errand, 
and  again  asked  his  way  to  the  archbishop’s  house. 

“ This  way,  O youthful  nonentity ! ” answered  the 
little  man,  leading  the  way  to  the  great  front  of  the 
Cmsareum,  at  the  foot  of  the  obelisks. 

Philammon’s  eyes  fell  on  some  new  masonry  in  the 
pediment,  ornamented  with  Christian  symbols. 

“ How  ? Is  this  a church  ? ” 

“ It  is  the  Caesareum.  It  has  become  temporarily  a 
church.  The  immortal  gods  have,  for  the  time  being, 
condescended  to  waive  their  rights;  but  it  is  the 
Caesareum,  nevertheless.  This  way;  down  this  street 
to  the  right.  There,”  said  he,  pointing  to  the  doorway 
in  the  side  of  the  museum,  “is  the  last  haunt  of  the 
Muses — the  lecture-room  of  Hypatia,  the  school  of  my 
unworthiness.  . . . And  here,”  stopping  at  the  door  of 
a splendid  house  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  “ is 
the  residence  of  that  blessed  favorite  of  Athene — Neith, 
as  the  barbarians  of  Egypt  would  denominate  the 


HYPATIA. 


107 


goddess — we  men  of  Macedonia  retain  the  time-honored 
Grecian  nomenclature.  ...  You  may  put  down  your 
basket.”  And  he  knocked  at  the  door,  and  delivering 
the  fruit  to  a black  porter,  made  a polite  obeisance  to 
Philammon,  and  seemed  on  the  point  of  taking  his  de- 
parture. 

“But  where  is  the  archbishop's  house  ?” 

“Close  to  the  Serapeium.  You  cannot  miss  the 
place;  four  hundred  columns  of  marble,  now  ruined  by 
Christian  persecutors,  stand  on  an  eminence ” 

“ But  how  far  off  ? ” 

“About  three  miles;  near  the  gate  of  the  Moon.” 

“ Why,  was  not  that  the  gate  by  which  we  entered 
the  city  on  the  other  side  ? ” 

“Exactly  so;  you  will  know  your  way  back,  having 
already  traversed  it.” 

Philammon  checked  a decidedly  carnal  inclination 
to  seize  the  little  fellow  by  the  throat,  and  knock  his 
head  against  the  wall,  and  contented  himself  by  say- 
ing: 

“ Then  do  you  actually  mean  to  say,  you  heathen 
villain,  that  you  have  taken  me  six  or  seven  miles  out 
of  my  road  ? ” 

“ Good  words,  young  man.  If  you  do  me  harm,  I 
call  for  help;  we  are  close  to  the  Jews'  quarter,  and 
there  are  some  thousands  there  who  will  swarm  out 
like  wasps  on  the  chance  of  beating  a monk  to  death. 
Yet  that  which  I have  done,  I have  done  with  a good 
purpose.  First,  politically,  or  according  to  practical 
wisdom — in  order  that  you,  not  I,  might  carry  the 
basket.  Next,  philosophically,  or  according  to  the  in- 
tuitions of  the  pure  reason — in  order  that  you  might, 
by  beholding  the  magnificence  of  that  great  civiliza- 
tion which  your  fellows  wish  to  destroy,  learn  that 
you  are  an  ass,  and  a tortoise,  and  a nonentity,  and  so 


108 


HYPATIA. 


beholding1  yourself  to  be  nothing,  may  be  moved  to 
become  something.” 

And  he  moved  off. 

Philammon  seized  him  by  the  collar  of  his  ragged 
tunic  and  held  him  in  a grip  from  which  the  little 
man,  though  he  twisted  like  an  eel,  could  not  escape. 

“Peaceably,  if  you  will,  if  not,  by  main  force.  You 
shall  go  back  with  me,  and  show  me  every  step  of  the 
way.  It  is  a just  penalty.” 

“The  philosopher  conquers  circumstances  by  sub' 
mitting  to  them.  I go  peaceably.  Indeed,  the  base 
necessities  of  the  hog-bucket  side  of  existence  compel 
me  of  themselves  back  to  the  Moon  gate,  for  another 
early  fruit  job.” 

So  they  went  back  together. 

Now,  why  Pliilammon’s  thoughts  should  have  been 
running  on  the  next  new  specimen  of  womankind  to 
whom  he  had  been  introduced,  though  only  in  name, 
let  psychologists  tell,  but  certainly,  after  he  had  walked 
some  half  mile  in  silence,  he  suddenly  woke  up,  as  out 
of  many  meditations,  and  asked : 

“But  who  is  this  Hypatia,  of  whom  you  talk  so 
much  ? ” 

“Who  is  Hypatia,  rustic  ? The  queen  of  Alexandria! 
In  wit,  Athene;  Hera  in  majesty;  in  beauty.  Aphro- 
dite ! ” 

“And  who  are  they  ? ” asked  Philammon. 

The  porter  stopped,  surveyed  him  slowly  from  foot 
to  head  with  an  expression  of  boundless  pity  and  con- 
tempt, and  was  in  the  act  of  walking  off  in  the  ecstasy 
of  his  disdain,  when  he  was  brought  to  suddenly  by 
PhilammoAs  strong  arm. 

“Ah!  I recollect.  There  is  a compact.  . . . Who  is 
Athene  ? The  goddess,  giver  of  wisdom.  Hera,  spouse 
of  Zeus,  queen  of  the  Celestials.  Aphrodite,  the  mother 
of  love.  ...  You  are  not  expected  to  understand.” 


HYPATIA. 


109 


Philammon  did  understand,  however,  so  much  as 
this,  that  Hypatia  was  a very  unique  and  wonderful 
person  in  the  mind  of  his  little  guide;  and  therefore 
asked  the  only  further  question  by  which  he  could  as 
yet  test  any  Alexandrian  phenomenon : 

“And  is  she  a friend  of  the  patriarch  ? ” 

The  porter  opened  his  eyes  very  wide,  put  his  middle 
finger  in  a careful  and  complicated  fashion  between 
his  fore  and  third  finger,  and  extending  it  playfully 
toward  Philammon,  performed  therewith  certain  mys- 
terious signals,  the  effect  whereof  being  totally  lost  on 
him,  the  little  man  stopped,  took  another  look  at  Phi- 
lammon’s  stately  figure,  and  answered : 

“ Of  the  human  race  in  general,  my  young  friend. 
The  philosopher  must  rise  above  the  individual,  to  the 
contemplation  of  the  universal.  . . . Aha!  Here  is 
something  worth  seeing,  and  the  gates  are  open.” 
And  he  stopped  at  the  portal  of  a vast  building. 

“ Is  this  the  patriarch’s  house  ? ” 

“ The  patriarch’s  tastes  are  more  plebeian.  He  lives, 
they  say,  in  two  dirty  little  rooms — knowing  what  is 
fit  for  him.  The  patriarch’s  house  ? Its  antipodes, 
my  young  friend — that  is,  if  such  beings  have  a cosmic 
existence,  on  which  point  Hypatia  has  her  doubts. 
This  is  the  temple  of  art  and  beauty" ; the  Delphic 
tripod  of  poetic  inspiration;  the  solace  of  the  earth- 
worn  drudge;  in  a word,  the  theatre;  which  your 
patriarch,  if  he  could,  would  convert  to-morrow  into 

a- but  the  philosopher  must  not  revile.  Ah ! I see 

the  prefect’s  apparitors  at  the  gate.  He  is  making 
the  polity,  as  we  call  it  here;  the  dispositions;  settling, 
in  short,  the  bill  of  fare  for  the  day,  in  compliance  with 
the  public  palate.  A facetious  pantomime  dances  here 
on  this  day  everyr  week — admired  bty  some,  the  Jews 
especially7.  To  the  more  classic  taste,  many  of  his 


110 


HYPATIA. 


movements — his  recoil,  especially — are  wanting-  in  the 
true  antique  severity — might  be  called,  perhaps,  on 
the  whole,  indecent.  Still  the  weary  pilgrim  must  be 
amused.  Let  us  step  in  and  hear.” 

But  before  Philainmon  could  refuse,  an  uproar  arose 
within,  a rush  outward  of  the  mob,  and  inward  of  the 
prefect’s  apparitors. 

"It  is  false!”  shouted  many  voices.  "A  Jewish 
calumny ! The  man  is  innocent.” 

"There’s  no  more  sedition  in  him  than  there  is  in 
me ! ” roared  a fat  butcher,  who  looked  as  ready  to  fell 
a man  as  an  ox.  " He  was  always  the  first  and  the 
last  to  clap  the  holy  patriarch  at  sermon.” 

"Dear  tender  soul,”  whimpered  a woman;  "and  I 
said  to  him  only  this  morning,  why  don’t  you  flog  my 
boys,  Master  Hierax;  how  can  you  expect  them  to 
learn  if  they  are  not  flogged  ? And  he  said,  he  never 
could  abide  the  sight  of  a rod,  it  made  his  back  tingle  so.” 
" Which  was  plainly  a prophecy ! ” 

"And  proves  him  innocent;  for  how  could  he  prophesy 
if  he  was  not  one  of  the  holy  ones  ? ” 

"Monks,  to  the  rescue!  Hierax,  a Christian,  is 
taken  and  tortured  in  the  theatre ! ” thundered  a wild 
hermit,  his  beard  and  hair  streaming  about  his  chest 
and  shoulders. 

"Nitria!  Nitria!  For  God  and  the  mother  of  God, 
monks  of  Nitria!  Down  with  the  Jewish  slanderers! 
Down  with  heathen  tyrants ! ” And  the  mob,  rein- 
forced as  if  by  magic  by  hundreds  from  without,  swept 
down  the  huge  vaulted  passage,  carrying  Pliilammon 
and  the  porter  with  them. 

" My  friends,”  quoth  the  little  man,  trying  to  look 
philosophically  calm,  though  he  was  fairly  off  his  legs, 
and  hanging  between  heaven  and  earth  on  the  elbows 
of  the  bystanders,  " whence  this  tumult  ? ” 


HYPATIA. 


Ill 


“ The  Jews  got  up  a cry  that  Hierax  wanted  to  raise 
a riot.  Curse  them  and  their  Sabbath,  they  are  always 
rioting  on  Saturdays  about  this  dancer  of  theirs,  in- 
stead of  working  like  honest  Christians ! ” 

“And  rioting  on  Sunday  instead.  Ahem ! sectarian 

differences,  which  the  philosopher ” 

The  rest  of  the  sentence  disappeared  with  the 
speaker,  as  a sudden  opening  of  the  mob  let  him  drop, 
and  buried  him  under  innumerable  legs. 

Philammon,  furious  at  the  notion  of  persecution, 
maddened  by  the  cries  around  him,  found  himself 
bursting  fiercely  through  the  crowd,  till  he  reached  the 
front  ranks,  where  tall  gates  of  open  iron-work  barred 
all  further  progress,  but  left  a full  view  of  the  tragedy 
which  was  enacting  within,  where  the  poor  innocent 
wretch,  suspended  from  a gibbet,  writhed  and  shrieked 
at  every  stroke  of  the  hide  whips  of  his  tormentors. 

In  vain  Philammon  and  the  monks  around  him 
knocked  and  beat  at  the  gates;  they  were  only  an- 
swered by  laughter  and  taunts  from  the  apparitors 
within,  curses  on  the  turbulent  mob  of  Alexandria, 
with  its  patriarch,  clergy,  saints,  and  churches,  and 
promises  to  each  and  all  outside  that  their  turn  would 
come  next,  while  the  piteous  screams  grew  fainter  and 
more  faint,  and  at  last,  with  a convulsive  shudder, 
motion  and  suffering  ceased  forever  in  the  poor  man- 
gled body. 

“They  have  killed  him!  Martyred  him!  Back  to 
the  archbishop!  To  the  patriarch^  house:  he  will 
avenge  us!  ” And  as  the  horrible  news,  and  the  watch- 
word which  followed  it,  passed  outward  through  the 
crowd,  they  wheeled  round  as  one  man,  and  poured 
through  street  after  street  toward  CyriFs  house,  while 
Philammon,  beside  himself  with  horror,  rage,  and  pity, 
hurried  onward  with  them. 


112 


HYPATIA. 


A tumultuous  hour  or  more  was  passed  in  the  street, 
before  he  could  gain  entrance;  and  then  he  was  swept 
along  with  the  mob  in  which  he  had  been  fast  wedged, 
through  a dark  low  passage,  and  landed  breathless  in 
a quadrangle  of  mean  and  new  buildings,  overhung  by 
the  four  hundred  stately  columns  of  the  ruined  Sera- 
peium.  The  grass  was  already  growing  on  the  ruined 
capitals  and  architraves.  . . . Little  did  even  its  de- 
stroyers dream  then  that  the  day  would  come  when 
one  only  of  that  four  hundred  would  be  left,  as  “ Pom- 
pey’s  Pillar,”  to  show  what  the  men  of  old  could  think 
and  do. 

Philammon  at  last  escaped  from  the  crowd,  and 
putting  the  letter  which  he  had  carried  in  his  bosom 
into  the  hands  of  one  of  the  priests  who  was  mixing 
with  the  mob,  was  beckoned  by  him  into  a corridor, 
and  up  a flight  of  stairs,  and  into  a large,  low,  mean 
room,  and  there,  by  virtue  of  the  world-wide  free- 
masonry which  Christianity  had,  for  the  first  time  on 
earth,  established,  found  himself  in  five  minutes 
awaiting  the  summons  of  the  most  powerful  man  south 
of  the  Mediterranean. 

A curtain  hung  across  the  door  of  the  inner  cham- 
ber, through  which  Philammon  could  hear  plainly  the 
steps  of  some  one  walking  up  and  do  wn  hurriedly  and 
fiercely. 

“ They  will  drive  me  to  it ! ” at  last  burst  out  a deep, 
sonorous  voice.  “ They  will  drive  me  to  it.  . . . Their 
blood  be  on  their  own  head ! It  is  not  enough  for  them 
to  blaspheme  God  and  His  church,  to  have  the  monop- 
oly of  all  the  cheating,  fortune-telling,  usury,  sorcery, 
and  coining  of  the  city,  but  they  must  deliver  my 
clergy  into  the  hands  of  the  tyrant  ! ” 

“ It  was  so  even  in  the  apostles’  time,”  suggested  a 
softer,  but  far  more  unpleasant  voice. 


HYPATIA. 


113 


“ Then  it  shall  be  so  no  longer ! God  has  given  me 
the  power  to  stop  them;  and  God  do  so  to  me,  and 
more  also,  if  I do  not  use  that  power.  To-morrow  I 
sweep  out  this  Augean  stable  of  villany,  and  leave 
not  a Jew  to  blaspheme  and  cheat  in  Alexandria.” 

“ I am  afraid  such  a judgment,  however  righteous, 
might  offend  his  excellency. 

“His  excellency!  His  tyranny!  Why  does  Orestes 
truckle  to  these  circumcised,  but  because  they  lend 
money  to  him  and  to  his  creatures  ? He  would  keep 
up  a den  of  fiends  in  Alexandria  if  they  would  do  as 
much  for  him!  And  then  to  play  them  off  against  me 
and  mine,  to  bring  religion  into  contempt  by  setting 
the  mob  together  by  the  ears,  and  to  end  with  out- 
rages like  this  ! Seditious  ? Have  they  not  cause 
enough  ? The  sooner  I remove  one  of  their  tempta- 
tions, the  better;  let  the  other  tempter  beware,  lest 
his  judgment  be  at  hand ! ” 

“ The  prefect,  your  holiness  ? ” asked  the  other  voice, 
slyly- 

“ Who  spoke  of  the  prefect  ? Whosoever  is  a tyrant, 
and  a murderer,  and  an  oppressor  of  the  poor,  and  a 
favorer  of  the  philosophy  which  despises  and  enslaves 
the  poor,  should  not  he  perish,  though  he  be  seven 
times  a prefect  ? ” 

At  this  juncture  Philammon,  thinking  perhaps  that 
he  had  already  heard  too  much,  notified  his  presence 
by  some  slight  noise,  at  which  the  secretary,  as  he 
seemed  to  be,  hastily  lifted  the  curtain,  and  somewhat 
sharply  demanded  his  business.  The  names  of  Pambo 
and  Arsenius,  however,  seemed  to  pacify  him  at  once; 
and  the  trembling  youth  was  ushered  into  the  pres- 
ence of  him  who  in  reality,  though  not  in  name,  sat  on 
the  throne  of  the  Pharaohs. 

Not,  indeed,  in  their  outward  pomp;  the  furniture 
8 


114 


HYPATIA. 


of  the  chamber  was  hut  a grade  above  that  of  the  arti- 
san’s; the  dress  of  the  great  man  was  coarse  and  sim- 
ple; if  personal  vanity  peeped  out  anywhere,  it  was 
in  the  careful  arrang'ement  of  the  bushy  beard,  and  of 
the  few  curling  locks  which  the  tonsure  had  spared. 
But  the  height  and  majesty  of  his  figure,  the  stern  and 


“ Go  to  that  window  and  leap  into  the  court.” 

massive  beauty  of  his  features,  the  flashing  eye,  curl- 
ing lip,  and  projecting  brow — all  marked  him  as  one 
born  to  command.  As  the  youth  entered,  Cyril 
stopped  short  in  his  walk,  and  looking  him  through 
and  through,  with  a glance  which  burnt  upon  his 
cheeks  like  fire,  and  made  him  all  but  wish  the  kindly 
earth  would  open  and  hide  him,  took  the  letters,  read 
them,  and  then  began : 


HYPATIA. 


115 

“ Philammon.  A Greek.  You  are  said  to  have 
learned  to  obey.  If  so  you  have  also  learned  to  rule. 
Your  father-abbot  has  transferred  you  to  my  tutelage. 
You  are  now  to  obey  me.” 

“And  I will.” 

“Well  said.  Go  to  that  window,  then,  and  leap  into 
the  court.” 

Philammon  walked  to  it,  and  opened  it.  The  pave- 
ment was  full  twenty  feet  below;  but  his  business  was 
to  obey,  and  not  take  measurements.  There  was  a 
flower  in  a vase  upon  the  sill.  He  quietly  removed  it, 
and  in  an  instant  more  would  have  leaped  for  life  or 
death,  when  Cyril’s  voice  thundered  “ Stop ! ” 

“ The  lad  will  pass,  my  Peter.  I shall  not  be  afraid 
now  for  the  secrets  which  he  may  have  overheard.” 

Peter  smiled  assent,  looking  all  the  while  as  if  he 
thought  it  a great  pity  that  the  young  man  had  not 
been  allowed  to  put  tale-bearing  out  of  his  own  power 
by  breaking  his  neck. 

“You  wish  to  see  the  world.  Perhaps  you  have  seen 
something  of  it  to-day.” 

“ I saw  the  murder ” 

“ Then  you  saw  that  you  come  hither  to  see : what 
the  world  is,  and  what  justice  and  mercy  it  can  deal 
out.  You  would  not  dislike  to  see  God’s  reprisals  to 
man’s  tyranny  ? . . . Or  to  be  a fellow-worker  with 
God  therein,  if  I judge  rightly  by  your  looks  ? ” 

“ I would  avenge  that  man.” 

“Ah!  my  poor  simple  schoolmaster!  And  his  fate 
is  the  portent  of  portents  to  you  now!  Stay  awhile, 
till  you  have  gone  with  Ezekiel  into  the  inner  cham- 
bers of  the  devil’s  temple,  and  you  will  see  worse  things 
than  these — women  weeping  for  Thammuz : bemoan- 
ing the  decay  of  an  idolatry  which  they  themselves  dis- 
believe— that,  too,  is  on  the  list  of  Hercules’  labors, 
Peter  mine.” 


116 


HYPATIA. 


At  this  moment  a deacon  entered.  . . . “ Your  holi- 
ness, the  rabbis  of  the  accursed  nation  are  below,  at 
your  summons.  We  brought  them  in  through  the 
back  gate,  for  fear  of ” 

“ Right,  right.  An  accident  to  them  might  have 
ruined  us.  I shall  not  forget  you.  Bring  them  up. 
Peter,  take  this  youth,  introduce  him  to  the  parabo- 
lani.  . . . Who  will  be  the  best  man  for  him  to  work 
under  ? ” 

“ The  brother  Theopompus  is  especially  sober  and 
gentle.” 

Cyril  shook  his  head,  laughing.  . . . “ Go  into  the  next 
room,  my  son.  . . . No,  Peter,  put  him  under  some  fiery 
saint,  some  true  Boanerges,  who  will  talk  him  down, 
and  work  him  to  death,  and  show  him  the  best  and 
worst  of  everything.  Cleitophon  will  be  the  man. 
Now  then,  let  me  see  my  engagements:  five  minutes 
for  these  Jews — Orestes  did  not  choose  to  frighten 
them;  let  us  see  whether  Cyril  cannot;  then  an  hour 
to  look  over  the  hospital  accounts ; an  hour  for  the 
schools;  a half-hour  for  the  reserved  cases  of  distress; 
and  another  half-hour  for  myself ; and  then  divine  ser- 
vice. See  that  the  boy  is  there.  Do  bring  in  every 
one  in  their  turn,  Peter  mine.  So  much  time  goes  in 
hunting  for  this  man  and  that  man.  . . . and  life  is  too 
short  for  all  that.  Where  are  these  Jews  ? ” and  Cyril 
plunged  into  the  latter  half  of  his  day's  work  with 
that  untiring  energy,  self-sacrifice,  and  method  which 
commanded  for  him,  in  spite  of  all  suspicions  of  his 
violence,  ambition,  and  intrigue,  the  loving  awe  and 
implicit  obedience  of  several  hundred  thousand  human 
beings. 

So  Philammon  went  out  with  the  barabolani,  a sort 
of  organized  guild  of  district  visitors.  . . . And  in  their 
company  he  saw  that  afternoon  the  dark  side  of  that 


HYPATIA. 


1.17 


world,  whereof  the  harbor  panorama  had  been  the 
bright  one.  In  squalid  misery,  filth,  profligacy,  igno- 
rance, ferocity,  discontent,  neglected  in  body,  house, 
and  soul,  by  the  civil  authorities,  proving  their  exist- 
ence only  in  aimless  and  sanguinary  riots,  there  they 
starved  and  rotted,  heap  on  heap,  the  masses  of  the 
old  Greek  population,  close  to  the  great  food-export- 
ing harbor  of  the  world.  Among  these,  fiercely  per- 
haps, and  fanatically,  but  still  among  them  and  for 
them,  labored  those  district  visitors  night  and  day. 
And  so  Philammon  toiled  away  with  them,  carrying 
food  and  clothing,  helping  sick  to  the  hospital,  and 
dead  to  the  burial;  cleaning  out  the  infected  houses — 
for  the  fever  was  all  but  perennial  in  those  quarters — 
and  comforting  the  dying  with  the  good  news  of  for- 
giveness from  above;  till  the  larger  number  had  to 
return  for  evening  service.  He,  however,  was  kept  by 
lii3  superior,  watching  at  a sick  bedside,  and  it  was 
late  at  night  before  he  got  home,  and  was  reported  to 
Peter  the  Reader  as  having  acquitted  himself  like  “ a 
man  of  God/’  as,  indeed,  without  the  least  thought  of 
doing  anything  noble  or  self-sacrificing,  he  had  truly 
done,  being  a monk.  And  so  threw  himself  on  a 
truckle-bed,  in  one  of  the  many  cells  which  opened  off 
a long  corridor,  and  fell  fast  asleep  in  a minute. 

He  was  just  weltering  about  in  a dreary  dream- 
jumble  of  Goths  dancing  with  district  visitors;  Pelagia 
as  an  angel  with  peacocks'  wings ; Hypatia  with  horns 
and  cloven  feet,  riding  three  hippopotami  at  once 
round  the  theatre;  Cyril  standing  at  an  open  window, 
cursing  frightfully,  and  pelting  him  with  flower-pots; 
and  a similar  self-sown  after-crop  of  his  day's  impres- 
sions, when  he  was  awakened  by  the  tramp  of  hurried 
feet  in  the  street  outside,  and  shouts,  which  gradually, 
as  he  became  conscious,  shaped  themselves  into  cries 


118 


IIYPATIA. 


of  “Alexander’s  church  is  on  fire!  Help,  good  Chris- 
tians ! Fire ! Help ! ” 

Whereat  he  sat  up  in  his  truckle-bed,  tried  to  recol- 
lect where  he  was,  and  having*  with  some  trouble  suc- 
ceeded, threw  on  his  sheepskin,  and  jumped  up  to  ask 
the  news  from  the  deacons  and  monks  who  were  hur- 
rying along  the  corridor  outside.  “ Yes,  Alexander’s 
church  was  on  fire;  ” and  down  the  stairs  they  poured, 
across  the  courtyard,  and  out  into  the  street,  Peter’s 
tall  figure  serving  as  a standard  and  a rallying  point. 

As  they  rushed  out  through  the  gateway,  Philam- 
mon,  dazzled  by  the  sudden  transition  from  the  dark- 
ness within  to  the  blaze  of  moon  and  starlight  which 
flooded  the  street,  and  walls,  and  shining  roofs,  hung 
back  a moment.  That  hesitation  probably  saved  his 
life;  for  in  an  instant  he  saw  a dark  figure  spring  out 
of  the  shadow,  a long  knife  flashed  across  his  eyes,  and 
a priest  next  to  him  sank  upon  the  pavement  with  a 
groan,  while  the  assassin  dashed  off  down  the  street, 
hotly  pursued  by  monks  and  parabolani. 

Philammon,  who  ran  like  a desert  ostrich,  had  soon 
outstripped  all  but  Peter,  when  several  more  dark  fig- 
ures sprang  out  of  doorways  and  corners,  and  joined, 
or  seemed  to  join,  the  pursuit.  Suddenly,  however, 
after  running  a hundred  yards,  they  drew  up  opposite 
the  mouth  of  a side  street;  the  assassin  stopped  also. 
Peter,  suspecting  something  wrong,  slackened  his  pace, 
and  caught  Philammon’s  arm. 

“Do  you  see  those  fellows  in  the  shadow  ?” 

But  before  Philammon  could  answer,  some  thirty  or 
forty  men,  their  daggers  gleaming  in  the  moonlight, 
moved  out  into  the  middle  of  the  street,  and  received 
the  fugitives  into  their  ranks.  What  was  the  meaning 
of  it  ? Here  was  a pleasant  taste  of  the  ways  of  the 
most  Christian  and  civilized  city  of  the  empire. 


HYPATIA. 


119 


“Well,”  thought  Philammon,  “I  have  come  out  to 
see  the  world,  and  I seem,  at  this  rate,  to  he  likely  to 
see  enough  of  it.” 

Peter  turned  at  once,  and  fled  as  quickly  as  he  had 
pursued;  while  Philammon,  considering  discretion  the 
better  part  of  valor,  followed,  and  they  rejoined  their 
party  breathless. 

“There  is  an  armed  mob  at  the  end  of  the  street.” 
“Assassins!”  “Jews!”  “A  conspiracy ! ” Uprose 
a babel  of  doubtful  voices.  The  foe  appeared  in  sight, 
advancing  stealthily,  and  the  whole  party  took  to 
flight,  led  once  more  by  Peter,  who  seemed  determined 
to  make  free  use,  in  behalf  of  his  own  safety,  of  the 
long  legs  which  nature  had  given  him. 

Philammon  followed,  sulkily  and  unwillingly,  at  a 
foot’s  pace;  but  he  had  not  gone  a dozen  yards  when 
a pitiable  voice  at  his  feet  called  to  him : 

“ Help ! mercy ! Do  not  leave  me  here  to  be  mur- 
dered! I am  a Christian;  indeed  I am  a Christian ! ” 
Philammon  stooped,  and  lifted  from  the  ground  a 
comely  negro  woman,  weeping,  and  shivering  in  a 
few  tattered  remnants  of  clothing. 

“ I ran  out  when  they  said  the  church  was  on  fire,” 
sobbed  the  poor  creature,  “and  the  Jewrs  beat  and 
wounded  me.  They  tore  my  shawl  and  tunic  off  me 
before  I could  get  away  from  them;  and  then  our  own 
people  ran  over  me  and  trod  me  down.  And  now  my 
husband  will  beat  me,  if  I ever  get  home.  Quick!  up 
this  side  street,  or  we  shall  be  murdered ! ” 

The  armed  men,  whosoever  they  were,  were  close  on 
them.  There  was  no  time  to  be  lost;  and  Philammon, 
assuring  her  that  he  would  not  desert  her,  hurried  her 
up  the  side  street  which  she  pointed  out.  But  the 
pursuers  had  caught  sight  of  them,  and  while  the  mass 
held  on  up  the  main  street,  three  or  four  turned  aside 


120 


HYPATIA. 


and  gave  chase.  The  poor  negress  could  only  limp 
along,  and  Philammon,  unarmed,  looked  back,  and 
saw  the  bright  steel  points  gleaming  in  the  moonlight, 
and  made  up  his  mind  to  die  as  a monk  should.  Never- 
theless, youth  is  hopeful.  One  chance  for  life.  He 
thrust  the  negress  into  a dark  doorway,  where  her 
color  hid  her  well  enough,  and  had  just  time  to  en- 
sconce himself  behind  a pillar,  when  the  foremost  pur- 
suer reached  him.  He  held  his  breath  in  fearful  sus- 
pense. Should  he  be  seen  ? He  would  not  die  without 
a struggle  at  least.  No ! the  fellow  ran  on,  panting. 
But  in  a minute  more  another  came  up,  saw  him  sud- 
denly, and  sprang  aside  startled.  That  start  saved 
Philammon.  Quick  as  a cat  he  leaped  upon  him,  felled 
him  to  the  earth  with  a single  blow,  tore  the  dagger 
from  his  hand,  and  sprang  to  his  feet  again  just  in 
time  to  strike  his  new  weapon  full  into  the  third  pur- 
suer’s face.  The  man  put  his  hand  to  his  head,  and 
recoiled  against  a fellow-ruffian,  who  was  close  on  his 
heels.  Philammon,  flushed  Avith  Adctory,  took  advan- 
tage of  the  confusion,  and  before  the  Avorthy  pair  could 
reco\Ter,  dealt  them  half  a dozen  blows  which,  luckily 
for  them,  came  from  an  unpractised  hand,  or  the  young 
monk  might  ha\Te  had  more  than  one  life  to  answer 
for.  As  it  was,  they  turned  and  limped  off,  cursing  in 
an  unknoAATn  tongue;  and  Philammon  found  himself 
triumphant  and  alone,  with  the  trembling  negress  and 
the  prostrate  ruffian,  who,  stunned  by  the  blow  and 
the  fall,  lay  groaning  on  the  pavement. 

It  Avas  all  over  in  a minute.  . . . The  negress  was 
kneeling  under  the  gateway,  pouring  out  her  simple 
thanks  to  heaven  for  this  unexpected  deliverance;  and 
Philammon  Avas  about  to  kneel  too,  when  a thought 
struck  him;  and  coolly  despoiling  the  Jew  of  his  shawl 
and  sash,  he  handed  them  over  to  the  poor  negress. 


HYPATIA. 


121 


considering  them  fairly  enough  as  his  own  by  right  of 
conquest;  but,  lo  and  behold!  as  she  was  overwhelm- 
ing him  with  thanks,  a fresh  mob  poured  into  the 
street  from  the  upper  end,  and  were  close  on  them 
before  they  were  aware.  ...  A flush  of  terror  and  de- 
spair, . . . and  then  a burst  of  joy,  as,  by  mingled 
moonlight  and  torchlight,  Philammon  descried  priestly 
robes,  and  in  the  forefront  of  the  battle — there  being 
no  apparent  danger — Peter  the  Reader,  who  seemed 
to  be  anxious  to  prevent  inquiry,  by  beginning  to  talk 
as  fast  as  possible. 

“Ah,  boy  ! Safe  ? The  saints  be  praised!  We  gave 
you  up  for  dead ! Whom  have  you  there  ? A prisoner  ? 
And  we  have  another.  He  ran  right  into  our  arms  up 
the  street,  and  the  Lord  delivered  him  into  our  hand. 
He  must  have  passed  you.” 

“ So  he  did,”  said  Philammon,  dragging  up  his  cap- 
tive, “ and  here  is  his  fellow-scoundrel.”  Wherein  the 
two  worthies  were  speedily  tied  together  by  the  elbows ; 
and  the  party  marched  on  once  more  in  search  of  Alex- 
ander’s church  and  the  supposed  conflagration. 

Philammon  looked  round  for  the  negress,  but  she 
had  vanished.  He  was  far  too  much  ashamed  of  being 
known  to  have  been  alone  with  a woman  to  say  any- 
thing about  her.  Yet  he  longed  to  see  her  again;  an 
interest — even  something  like  an  affection — had  al- 
ready sprung  up  in  his  heart  toward  the  poor  simple 
creature  whom  he  had  delivered  from  death.  Instead 
of  thinking  her  ungrateful  for  not  staying  to  tell  what 
he  had  done  for  her,  he  was  thankful  to  her  for  having 
saved  his  blushes  by  disappearing  so  opportunely.  . . . 
And  he  longed  to  tell  her  so — to  know  if  she  was  hurt 

— to O Philammon!  only  four  days  from  the 

Laura,  and  a whole  regiment  of  women  acquaintances 
already!  True,  Providence  having  sent  into  the  world 


122 


HYPATIA. 


about  as  many  women  as  men,  it  may  be  difficult  to 
keep  out  of  their  way  altogether.  Perhaps,  too, 
Providence  may  have  intended  them  to  be  of  some  use 
to  that  other  sex,  with  whom  it  has  so  mixed  them  up. 
Don't  argue,  poor  Philammon;  Alexander's  church  is 
on  fire!  forward! 

And  so  they  hurried  on,  a confused  mass  of  monks 
and  populace,  with  their  hapless  prisoners  in  the  centre, 
who,  hauled,  cuffed,  questioned,  and  cursed  by  twenty 
self-elected  inquisitors  at  once,  thought  fit,  either  from 
Jewish  obstinacy,  or  sheer  bewilderment,  to  give  no 
account  whatsoever  of  themselves. 

As  they  turned  the  corner  of  a street,  the  folding- 
doors  of  a large  gateway  rolled  open;  a long  lane  of 
glittering  figures  poured  across  the  road,  dropped 
their  spear  butts  on  the  pavement  with  a single  rattle, 
and  remained  motionless.  The  front  rank  of  the  mob 
recoiled ; and  an  awe-struck  whisper  ran  through 
them.  . . . “ The  Stationaries ! ” 

“ Who  are  they  ? ” asked  Philammon,  in  a whisper. 

“The  soldiers — the  Roman  soldiers,"  answered  a 
whisperer  to  him. 

Philammon,  who  was  among  the  leaders,  had  re- 
coiled too — he  hardly  knew  why — at  that  stern  appari- 
tion. His  next  instinct  was  to  press  forward  as  close 
as  he  dared.  . . . And  these  were  Roman  soldiers ! the 
conquerors  of  the  world!  the  men  whose  name  had 
thrilled  him  from  his  childhood  with  vague  awe  and 
admiration,  dimly  heard  of  up  there  in  the  lonely 
Laura.  . . . Roman  soldiers ! And  here  he  was  face  to 
face  with  them  at  last! 

His  curiosity  received  a sudden  check,  however,  as 
he  found  his  arm  seized  by  an  officer,  as  he  took  him 
to  be,  from  the  gold  ornaments  on  his  helmet  and 
cuirass,  who  lifted  his  vinestock  threateningly  over 
the  young  monk's  head  and  demanded : 


HYPATIA. 


123 


“ What’s  all  this  about  ? Why  are  you  not  quietly 
in  your  beds,  you  Alexandrian  rascals  ? ” 

“Alexander’s  church  is  on  fire/’  answered  Philam- 
mon, thinking-  the  shortest  answer  the  wisest. 

“ So  much  the  better.” 

“And  the  Jews  are  murdering  the  Christians.” 

“ Fight  it  out,  then.  Turn  in,  men;  it’s  only  a riot.” 

And  the  steel-clad  apparition  suddenly  flashed  round 
and  vanished,  trampling  and  jingling,  into  the  dark 
jaws  of  the  guard-house  gate,  while  the  stream,  its 
temporary  harrier  removed,  rushed  on  wilder  than 
ever. 

Philammon  hurried  on  too  with  them,  not  without  a 
strange  feeling  of  disappointment.  “Only  a riot!” 
Peter  was  chuckling  to  his  brothers  over  their  clever- 
ness in  “ having  kept  the  prisoners  in  the  middle,  and 
stopped  the  rascals’  mouths  till  they  were  past  the 
guard-house.”  “A  fine  thing  to  boast  of,”  thought 
Philammon,  “ in  the  face  of  the  men  who  make  and 
unmake  kings  and  Caesars ! ” “ Only  a riot ! ” He, 

and  the  corps  of  district  visitors — whom  he  fancied  the 
most  august  body  on  earth — and  Alexander’s  church, 
Christians  murdered  by  Jews,  persecution  of  the  Cath- 
olic faith,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  was  simply,  then,  not 
worth  the  notice  of  those  forty  men,  alone  and  secure 
in  the  sense  of  power  and  discipline,  among  tens  of 
thousands.  . . . He  hated  them,  those  soldiers.  Was 
it  because  they  were  indifferent  to  the  cause  of  the 
church  ? ...  or  because  they  were  indifferent  to  the 
cause  of  which  he  was  inclined  to  think  himself  a not 
unimportant  member,  on  the  strength  of  his  late  Sam- 
sonic  defeat  of  Jewish  persecutors  ? At  least,  he 
obeyed  the  little  porter’s  advice,  and  “felt  very  small 
indeed.” 

And  he  felt  smaller  still,  being  young  and  alive  to 


124 


HYPATIA. 


ridicule,  when  at  some  sudden  ebb  or  flow,  wave  or 
wavelet  of  the  babel  sea,  which  weltered  up  and  down 
every  street,  a shrill  female  voice  informed  them  from 
an  upper  window,  that  Alexander’s  church  was  not  on 
fire  at  all;  that  she  had  gone  to  the  top  of  the  house, 
as  they  might  have  gone,  if  they  had  not  been  fools, 
etc.,  etc.;  and  that  it  “looked  as  safe  and  as  ugly  as 
ever;”  wherewith  a brickbat  or  two  having  been  sent 
up  in  answer,  she  shut  the  blinds,  leaving  them  to  halt, 
inquire,  discover  gradually  and  piecemeal — after  the 
method  of  mobs,  they  had  been  following  the  nature 
of  mobs — that  no  one  had  seen  the  church  on  fire,  or 
seen  any  one  else  who  had  seen  the  same,  or  even  seen 
any  light  in  the  sky  in  any  quarter,  or  knew  who 
raised  the  cry;  or — or — in  short,  Alexander’s  church 
was  two  miles  off;  if  it  was  on  fire,  it  was  either  burnt 
down  or  saved  by  this  time;  if  not,  the  night-air  was, 
to  say  the  least,  chilly;  and,  whether  it  was  or  not, 
there  were  ambuscades  of  Jews — Satan  only  knew  how 
strong — in  every  street  between  them  and  it.  . . . Might 
it  not  be  better  to  secure  their  two  prisoners,  and  then 
ask  for  further  orders  from  the  archbishop  ? Where- 
with, after  the  manner  of  mobs,  they  melted  off  the 
way  they  came,  by  twos  and  threes,  till  those  of  a con- 
trary opinion  began  to  find  themselves  left  alone,  and 
having  a strong  dislike  to  Jewish  daggers,  were  fain 
to  follow  the  stream. 

With  a panic  or  two,  a cry  of  “ The  Jews  are  on  us!  ” 
and  a general  rush  in  every  direction  (in  which  one  or 
two,  seeking  shelter  from  the  awful  nothing  in  the 
neighboring  houses,  were  handed  over  to  the  watch  as 
burglars,  and  sent  to  the  quarries  accordingly),  they 
reached  the  Serapeium,  and  there  found,  of  course, 
a counter-mob  collected  to  inform  them  that  they  had 
been  taken  in — that  Alexander’s  church  had  never 


HYPATIA. 


125 


been  on  fire  at  all — that  the  Jews  had  murdered  a 
thousand  Christians  at  least,  though  three  dead  bodies, 
including  the  poor  priest  who  lay  in  the  house  within, 
were  all  of  the  thousand  who  had  yet  been  seen — and 
that  the  whole  Jews*  quarter  was  marching  upon 
them.  At  which  news  it  was  considered  advisable  to 
retreat  into  the  archbishop’s  house  as  quickly  as  possi- 
ble, barricade  the  doors,  and  prepare  for  a siege — a 
work  at  which  Philammon  performed  prodigies,  tear- 
ing wood-work  from  the  rooms,  and  stones  from  the 
parapets,  before  it  struck  some  of  the  sober-minded 
that  it  was  as  well  to  wait  for  some  more  decided 
demonstration  of  attack  before  incurring  so  heavy  a 
carpenter’s  bill  for  repairs. 

At  last  the  heavy  tramp  of  footsteps  was  heard 
coming  down  the  street,  and  every  window  was 
crowded  in  an  instant  with  eager  heads,  while  Peter 
rushed  down-stairs  to  heat  the  large  coppers,  having 
some  experience  in  the  defensive  virtues  of  boiling 
water.  The  bright  moon  glittered  on  a long  line  of 
helmets  and  cuirasses.  Thank  Heaven!  it  was  the 
soldiery. 

“Are  the  Jews  coming?”  “Is  the  city  quiet?” 
“ Why  did  not  you  prevent  the  villainy  ? ” “A  thou- 
sand citizens  murdered  while  you  have  been  snoring!” 
— and  a volle3r  of  similar  ejaculations  greeted  the  sol- 
diers as  they  passed,  and  were  answered  by  a cool — • 
“ To  your  perches,  and  sleep,  you  noisy  chickens,  or 
we’ll  set  the  coop  on  fire  about  your  ears.” 

A yell  of  defiance  answered  this  polite  speech,  and 
the  soldiery,  who  knew  perfectly  well  that  the  unarmed 
ecclesiastics  within  were  not  to  be  trifled  with,  and  had 
no  ambition  to  die  by  coping-stones  and  hot  water, 
went  quickly  on  their  way. 

All  danger  was  now  past;  and  the  cackling  rose 


126 


HYPATIA. 


jubilant,  louder  than  ever,  and  might  have  continued 
till  daylight,  had  not  a window  in  the  courtyard  been 
suddenly  thrown  open,  and  the  awful  voice  of  Cyril 
commanded  silence. 

“ Every  man  sleep  where  he  can.  I shall  want  you 
at  daybreak.  The  superiors  of  the  parabolani  are  to 
come  up  to  me  with  the  two  prisoners,  and  the  men 
who  took  them.” 

In  a few  minutes  Philammon  found  himself,  with 
some  twenty  others,  in  the  great  man’s  presence : lie 
was  sitting  at  his  desk,  writing  quietly,  small  notes  on 
slips  of  paper. 

“ Here  is  the  youth  who  helped  me  to  pursue  the 
murderer,  and  having  outrun  me,  was  attacked  by 
the  prisoners,”  said  Peter.  “ My  hands  are  clean  from 
blood,  I thank  the  Lord ! ” 

“ Three  set  on  me  with  daggers,”  said  Philammon 
apologetically,  “and  I was  forced  to  take  this  one’s 
dagger  away,  and  beat  off  the  two  others  with  it.” 

Cyril  smiled,  and  shook  his  head. 

“Thou  art  a brave  boy;  but  hast  thou  not  read,  ‘If 
a man  smite  thee  on  one  cheek,  turn  to  him  the  other  ? ’ ” 

“ I could  not  run  away,  as  Master  Peter  and  the  rest 
did.” 

“ So  you  ran  away,  eh,  my  worthy  friend  ? ” 

“ Is  it  not  written,”  asked  Peter,  in  his  blandest  tone, 
* If  they  persecute  you  in  one  city,  flee  unto  another  ? ’ ” 

Cyril  smiled  again.  “And  why  could  not  you  run 
away,  boy  ? ” 

Philammon  blushed  scarlet,  but  he  dared  not  lie. 
“There  was  a — a poor  black  woman,  wounded  and 
trodden  down,  and  I dare  not  leave  her,  for  she  told 
me  she  was  a Christian.” 

“Right,  my  son,  right.  I shall  remember  this. 
What  was  her  name  ? ” 


HYPATIA. 


127 


“ I did  not  hear  it.  Stay,  I think  she  said  Judith/’ 

“Ah ! the  wife  of  the  porter  who  stands  at  the  lec- 
ture-room, which  God  confound!  A devout  woman, 
full  of  good  works,  and  sorely  ill-treated  by  her  heathen 
husband.  Peter,  thou  shalt  go  to  her  to-morrow  with 
the  physician,  and  see  if  she  is  in  need  of  anything-. 
Boy,  thou  hast  done  well.  Cyril  never  forg-ets.  Now 
bring-  up  those  Jews.  Their  rabbis  were  with  me  two 
hours  ago  promising-  peace : and  this  is  the  way  they 
have  kept  their  promise.  So  be  it.  The  wicked  is 
snared  in  his  own  wickedness.” 

The  Jews  were  broug-ht  in,  but  kept  a stubborn 
silence. 

“ Your  holiness  perceives,”  said  some  one,  “ that  they 
have  each  of  them  ring-s  of  green  palm  bark  on  their 
^ight  hand.” 

“A  very  dangerous  sign ! An  evident  conspiracy ! ” 
commented  Peter. 

“Ah  ! What  does  that  mean,  you  rascals  ? Answer 
me,  as  you  value  your  lives.” 

“You  have  no  business  with  us:  we  are  Jews,  and 
none  of  your  people,”  said  one,  sulkily. 

“None  of  my  people?  You  have  murdered  my 
people!  None  of  my  people  ? Every  soul  in  Alexan- 
dria is  mine,  if  the  kingdom  of  God  means  anything-; 
and  you  shall  find  it  out.  I shall  not  argue  with  you, 
my  good  friends,  any  more  than  I did  with  your  rab- 
bis. Take  these  fellows  away,  Peter,  and  lock  them 
up  in  the  fuel  cellar,  and  see  that  they  are  guarded. 
If  any  man  lets  them  go,  his  life  shall  be  for  the  life  of 
them.” 

And  the  two  worthies  were  led  out. 

“Now,  my  brothers,  here  are  your  orders.  You  will 
divide  these  notes  among  yourselves,  and  distribute 
them  to  trusty  and  godly  Catholics  in  your  districts. 


128 


HYPATIA. 


Wait  one  hour,  till  the  city  be  quiet,  and  then  start 
and  raise  the  church.  I must  have  thirty  thousand 
men  by  sunrise.” 

“What  for,  your  holiness?”  asked  a dozen  voices. 

“ Read  your  notes.  Whosoever  will  fight  to-morrow 
under  the  banner  of  the  Lord,  shall  have  free  plunder 
of  the  Jews’  quarter,  outrage  and  murder  only  forbid- 
den. As  I have  said  it,  God  do  so  to  me,  and  more 
also,  if  there  be  a Jew  left  in  Alexandria  by  to-morrow 
at  noon.  Go.” 

And  the  staff  of  orderlies  filed  out,  thanking  Heaven 
that  they  had  a leader  so  prompt  and  valiant,  and 
spent  the  next  hour  over  the  hall  fire,  eating  millet 
cakes,  drinking  bad  beer,  likening  Cyril  to  Barak, 
Gideon,  Samson,  Jephtha,  Judas  Maccabeus,  and  all 
the  worthies  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  then  started 
on  their  pacific  errand. 

Philammon  was  about  to  follow  them,  when  Cyril 
stopped  him. 

“Stay,  my  son:  you  are  young  and  rash,  and  do  not 
know  the  city.  Lie  down  here  and  sleep  in  the  ante- 
room. Three  hours  hence  the  sun  rises,  and  we  go 
forth  against  the  enemies  of  the  Lord.” 

Philammon  threw  himself  on  the  floor  in  a corner, 
and  slumbered  like  a child,  till  he  was  awakened  in 
the  gray  dawn  by  one  of  the  parabolani. 

“Up,  boy!  and  see  what  we  can  do.  Cyril  goes 
down  greater  than  Barak  the  son  of  Abinoam,  not 
with  ten,  but  with  thirty  thousand  men  at  his  feet ! ” 

“Ay,  my  brothers!  ” said  Cyril,  as  he  passed  proudly 
out  in  full  pontificals,  with  a gorgeous  retinue  of 
priests  and  deacons,  “the  Catholic  Church  has  her 
organization,  her  unity,  her  common  cause,  her  watch- 
words, such  as  the  tyrants  of  the  earth,  in  their  weak- 
less  and  their  divisions,  may  envy  and  tremble  at,  but 


HYPATIA. 


129 


cannot  imitate.  Could  Orestes  raise,  in  three  hours, 
thirty  thousand  men  who  would  die  for  him  ?” 

“As  we  will  for  you ! ” shouted  many  voices. 

“ Say  for  the  kingdom  of  God.”  And  he  passed  out. 
And  so  ended  Philammon's  first  day  in  Alexandria. 

9 


J 30 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  NEW  DIOGENES. 

About  five  o'clock  the  next  morning-,  Raphael  Aben- 
Ezra  was  lying  in  bed,  alternately  yawning  over  a 
manuscript  of  Philo  Judaeus,  pulling  the  ears  of  his 
huge  British  mastiff,  watching  the  sparkle  of  the 
fountain  in  the  court  outside,  wondering  when  that 
lazy  boy  would  come  to  tell  him  that  the  bath  was 
warmed,  and  meditating,  half-aloud.  . . . 

“Alas!  poor  me!  Here  I am,  back  again — just  at 
the  point  from  which  I started!  . . . How  am  I to 
get  free  from  that  heathen  siren  ? Plagues  on  her!  I 
shall  end  by  falling  in  love  with  her.  ...  I don’t  know 
that  I have  not  got  a barb  of  the  blind  boy  in  me  al- 
ready. I felt  absurdly  glad  the  other  day  when  that 
fool  told  me  he  dare  not  accept  her  modest  offer.  Ha! 
ha!  A delicious  joke  it  would  have  been  to  have  seen 
Orestes  bowing  down  to  stocks  and  stones,  and  Hy- 
patia installed  in  the  ruins  of  the  Serapeium,  as  High 
Priestess  of  the  Abomination  of  Desolation ! . . . And 
now,  . . . Well,  I call  all  heaven  and  earth  to  witness, 
that  I have  fought  valiantly.  I have  faced  naughty 
little  Eros  like  a man,  rod  in  hand.  What  could  a 
poor  human  being  do  more  than  to  try  to  marry  her 
to  some  one  else,  in  hopes  of  sickening  himself  of  the 
whole  matter?  Well,  every  moth  has  its  candle,  and 
every  man  his  destiny.  But  the  daring  of  the  little 
fool!  What  huge  imagination  she  has!  She  might 


HYPATIA. 


131 


be  another  Zenobia,  now,  with  Orestes  as  Odenatus, 
and  Raphael  Aben-Ezra  to  play  the  part  of  Longinus 
. . . and  receive  Longinus’  salary  of  axe  or  poison. 
She  don't  care  for  me:  she  would  sacrifice  me,  or  a 
thousand  of  me,  the  cold-blooded  fanatical  archangel 
that  she  is,  to  water  with  our  blood  the  foundation  of 
some  new  temple  of  cast  rags  and  broken  dolls.  . . . 
0 Raphael  Aben-Ezra,  what  a fool  you  are  ! ...  You 


‘ Arise  and  flee  for  thy  life.' 


know  you  are  going  off  as  usual  to  her  lecture,  this 
very  morning  ! ” 

At  this  crisis  of  his  confession  the  page  entered,  and 
announced,  not  the  bath,  but  Miriam. 

The  old  woman,  who,  in  virtue  of  her  profession,  had 
the  private  entry  of  all  fashionable  chambers  in  Alex- 
andria, came  in  hurriedly;  and  instead  of  seating 
herself  as  usual,  for  a gossip,  remained  standing,  and 
motioned  the  boy  out  of  the  room. 

“ Well,  my  sweet  mother  ? Sit.  Ah!  I see  ! You 


132 


HYPATIA. 


rascal,  you  have  brought  in  no  wine  for  the  lady. 
Don’t  you  know  her  little  ways  yet  ? ” 

“ Eos  has  got  it  at  the  door,  of  course,”  answered  the 
boy  with  a saucy  air  of  offended  virtue. 

“ Out  with  you,  imp  of  Satan  ! ” cried  Miriam. 
“This  is  no  time  for  wine-bibbing.  Raphael  Aben- 
Ezra,  why  are  you  lying  here  ? Did  you  not  receive  a 
note  last  night  ? ” 

“A  note  ? So  I did,  but  I was  too  sleepy  to  read  it. 
There  it  lies.  Boy,  bring  it  here.  . . . What’s  this  ? 
A scrap  out  of  Jeremiah  ? ‘Arise,  and  flee  for  thy  life, 
for  evil  is  determined  against  the  whole  house  of 
Israel ! ’ Does  this  come  from  the  chief  rabbi  ? I always 
took  the  venerable  father  for  a sober  man.  . . . Eh, 
Miriam  ? ” 

“ Fool ! instead  of  laughing  at  the  sacred  words  of 
the  prophets,  get  up  and  obey  them.  I sent  you  the 
note.” 

“ Why  can’t  I obey  them  in  bed  ? Here  I am,  read- 
ing hard  at  the  Cabbala,  or  Philo — who  is  stupider  still 
— and  what  more  would  you  have  ? ” 

The  old  woman,  unable  to  restrain  her  impatience, 
literally  ran  at  him,  gnashing  her  teeth,  and,  before 
he  was  aware,  dragged  him  out  of  bed  on  the  floor, 
where  he  stood,  meekly  wondering  what  would  come 
next. 

“Many  thanks,  mother,  for  having  saved  me  the  one 
daily  torture  of  life — getting  out  of  bed  by  one’s  own 
exertion.” 

“Raphael  Aben-Ezra!  are  you  so  besotted  with  your 
philosophy,  and  your  heathenry,  and  your  laziness,  and 
your  contempt  for  God  and  man,  that  you  will  see 
your  nation  given  up  for  a prey,  and  your  wealth 
plundered  by  heathen  dogs?  I tell  you,  Cyril  has 
sworn  that  God  shall  do  so  to  him,  and  more  also,  if 


HYPATIA. 


133 


there  be  a Jew  left  in  Alexandria  by  to-morrow  about 
this  time.” 

“ So  much  the  better  for  the  Jews,  then,  if  they  are 
half  as  tired  of  this  noisy  pandemonium  as  I am.  But 
how  can  I help  it  ? Am  I Queen  Esther,  to  go  to 
Ahasuerus  there  in  the  prefect's  palace,  and  get  him 
to  hold  out  the  golden  sceptre  to  me  ? ” 

“Fool!  if  you  had  read  that  note  last  night,  you 
might  have  gone  and  saved  us,  and  your  name  would 
have  been  handed  down  forever  from  generation  to 
generation  as  a second  Mordecai.” 

“ My  dear  mother,  Ahasuerus  would  have  been  either 
fast  asleep,  or  far  too  drunk  to  listen  to  me.  Why  did 
you  not  go  yourself  ? ” 

“ Do  you  suppose  that  I would  not  have  gone  if  I 
could  ? Do  you  fancy  me  a sluggard  like  yourself  ? 
At  the  risk  of  my  life  I have  got  hither  in  time,  if  there 
be  time  to  save  you.” 

“Well,  shall  I dress  ? What  can  be  done  now  ? ” 
“Nothing!  The  streets  are  blockaded  by  Cyril's 
mob — there!  do  you  hear  the  shouts  and  screams? 
They  are  attacking  the  further  part  of  the  quarter 
already.” 

“ What ! are  they  murdering  them  ? ” asked  Raphael, 
throwing  on  his  pelisse.  “Because,  if  it  has  realty 
come  to  a practical  joke  of  that  kind,  I shall  have  the 
greatest  pleasure  in  employing  a counter-irritant. 
Here,  boy ! my  sword  and  dagger ! Quick ! ” 

“No,  the  hypocrites!  No  blood  is  to  be  shed,  they 
say,  if  we  make  no  resistance,  and  let  them  pillage. 
Cyril  and  his  monks  are  there,  to  prevent  outrage,  and 
so  forth.  . . . The  angel  of  the  Lord  scatter  them ! ” 
The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  rushing 
in  of  the  whole  household,  in  an  agony  of  terror;  and 
Raphael,  at  last  thoroughly  roused,  went  to  a window 


134 


HYPATIA. 


which  looked  into  the  street.  The  thoroughfare  was 
full  of  scolding  women  and  screaming  children ; while 
men,  old  and  young,  looked  on  at  the  plunder  of  their 
property  with  true  Jewish  doggedness,  too  prudent  to 
resist,  hut  too  manful  to  complain;  while  furniture 
came  flying  out  of  every  window,  and  from  door  after 
door  poured  a stream  of  rascality,  carrying  off  money, 
jewels,  silks,  and  all  the  treasures  which  Jewish  usury 
had  accumulated  during  many  a generation.  But  un- 
moved amid  the  roaring  sea  of  plunderers  and  plun- 
dered, stood,  scattered  up  and  down,  Cyril’s  spiritual 
police,  enforcing,  by  a word,  an  obedience  which  the 
Roman  soldiers  could  only  have  compelled  by  hard 
blows  of  the  spear- butt.  There  was  to  be  no  outrage, 
and  no  outrage  there  was;  and  more  than  once  some 
man  in  priestly  robes  hurried  through  the  crowd,  lead- 
ing by  the  hand,  tenderly  enough,  a lost  child  in  search 
of  its  parents. 

Raphael  stood  watching  silently,  while  Miriam,  who 
had  followed  him  up-stairs,  paced  the  room  in  an  ec- 
stasy of  rage,  calling  vainly  to  him  to  speak  or  act. 

“ Let  me  alone,  mother,”  he  said,  at  last.  “ It  will 
be  full  ten  minutes  more  before  they  pay  me  a visit, 
and  in  the  mean  time  what  can  one  do  better  than 
watch  the  progress  of  this,  the  little  exodus  ? ” 

“Not  like  the  first  one!  Then  we  went  forth  with 
cymbals  and  songs  to  the  Red  Sea  triumph ! Then 
we  borrowed,  every  woman  of  her  neighbor,  jewels  of 
silver,  and  jewels  of  gold,  and  raiment.” 

“And  now  we  pay  them  back  again;  ...  it  is  but 
fair,  after  all.  We  ought  to  have  listened  to  Jeremiah 
a thousand  years  ago,  and  never  gone  back  again,  like 
fools,  into  a country  to  which  we  were  so  deeply  in 
debt.” 

“Accursed  land!”  cried  Miriam.  “In  an  evil  hour 


HYPATIA. 


135 


our  forefathers  disobeyed  the  prophet;  and  now  we 
reap  the  harvest  of  our  sins ! Our  sons  have  forgotten 
the  faith  of  their  forefathers  for  the  philosophy  of  the 
Gentiles,  and  fill  their  chambers  ”• — with  a contemptu- 
ous look  round — “with  heathen  imagery:  and  our 
daughters  are — look  there ! ” 

As  she  spoke  a beautiful  girl  rushed  shrieking  out  of 
an  adjoining  house,  followed  by  some  half-drunk  ruffian, 
who  was  clutching  at  the  gold  chains  and  trinkets 
with  which  she  was  profusely  bedecked,  after  the  fash- 
ion of  Jewish  women.  The  rascal  had  just  seized  with 
one  hand  her  streaming  black  tresses,  and  with  the 
other  a heavy  collar  of  gold,  which  was  wound  round 
her  throat,  when  a priest,  stepping  up,  laid  a quiet 
hand  upon  his  shoulder.  The  fellow,  too  maddened  to 
obey,  turned,  and  struck  back  the  restraining  arm  . . . 
and  in  an  instant  was  felled  to  the  earth  by  a young 
monk.  . . . 

“ Touchest  thou  the  Lord’s  anointed,  sacrilegious 
wretch  ? ” cried  the  man  of  the  desert,  as  the  fellow 
dropped  on  the  pavement,  with  his  booty  in  his  hand. 

The  monk  tore  the  gold  necklace  from  his  grasp, 
looked  at  it  for  a moment  with  childish  wonder,  as  a 
savage  might  at  some  incomprehensible  product  of 
civilized  industry,  and  then,  spitting  on  it  with  con- 
tempt, dashed  it  on  the  ground,  and  trampled  it  into 
the  mud. 

“ Follow  the  golden  wedge  of  Achan,  and  the  silver 
of  Iscariot,  thou  root  of  all  evil ! ” And  he  rushed  on, 
yelling,  “ Down  with  the  circumcision ! Down  with  the 
blasphemers ! " while  the  poor  girl  vanished  among 
the  crowd. 

Raphael  watched  him  with  a quaint,  thoughtful 
smile,  while  Miriam  shrieked  aloud  at  the  destruction 
of  the  precious  trumpery. 


136 


HYPATIA. 


“ The  monk  is  right,  mother.  If  those  Christians 
go  on  upon  that  method,  they  must  beat  us.  It  has 
been  our  ruin  from  the  first,  our  fancy  for  loading  our- 
selves with  the  thick  clay.” 

“ What  will  you  do  ? ” cried  Miriam,  clutching  him 
by  the  arm. 

“ What  will  you  do  ? ” 

“ I am  safe.  I have  a boat  waiting  for  me  on  the 
canal  at  the  garden  gate,  and  in  Alexandria  I stay; 
no  Christian  hound  shall  make  old  Miriam  move  a foot 
against  her  will.  My  jewels  are  all  buried — my  girls 
all  sold ; save  what  you  can,  and  come  with  me ! ” 

“ My  sweet  mother,  why  so  peculiarly  solicitous  about 
my  welfare,  above  that  of  all  the  sons  of  Judah  ?” 

“ Because — because — no,  Til  tell  you  that  another 
time.  But  I loved  your  mother,  and  she  loved  me. 
Come!” 

Raphael  relapsed  into  silence  for  a few  minutes,  and 
watched  the  tumult  below. 

“How  those  Christian  priests  keep  their  men  in 
order!  There  is  no  use  resisting  destiny.  They  are 
the  strong  men  of  the  time,  after  all,  and  the  little 
exodus  must  needs  have  its  course.  Miriam,  daugh- 
ter of  Jonathan ” 

“ I am  no  man’s  daughter ! I have  neither  father 

nor  mother,  husband  nor Call  me  mother 

again ! ” 

“ Whatsoever  I am  to  call  you,  there  are  jewels 
enough  in  that  closet  to  buy  half  Alexandria.  Take 
them.  I am  going.” 

“With  me?” 

“ Out  into  the  wide  world,  my  dear  lady.  I am  bored 
with  riches.  That  young  savage  of  a monk  under- 
stood them  better  than  we  Jews  do.  I shall  just  make 
a virtue  of  necessity,  and  turn  beggar.” 


HYPATIA 


137 


“ Beggar  ? ” 

“ Why  not  ? Don’t  argue.  These  scoundrels  will 
make  me  one,  whether  I like  or  not;  so  forth  I go. 
There  will  be  few  leave-takings.  This  brute  of  a dog 
is  the  only  friend  I have  on  earth;  and  I love  her,  be- 
cause she  has  the  true  old,  dogged,  spiteful,  cunning, 
obstinate  Maccabee  spirit  in  her — of  which  if  we  had  a 
spark  left  in  us  just  now,  there  would  be  no  little  exo- 
dus; eh,  Bran,  my  beauty?” 

“You  can  escape  with  me  to  the  prefect’s,  and  save 
the  mass  of  your  wealth.” 

“ Exactly  what  I don’t  want  to  do.  I hate  that  pre- 
fect as  I hate  a dead  camel,  or  the  vulture  who  eats 
him.  And  to  tell  the  truth,  I am  growing  a great 
deal  too  fond  of  that  heathen  woman  there ” 

“ What  ? ” shrieked  the  old  woman — !“  Hypatia  ? ” 

“ If  you  choose.  At  all  events,  the  easiest  way  to 
cut  the  knot  is  to  expatriate.  I shall  beg  my  passage 
on  board  the  first  ship  to  Cyrene,  and  go  and  study 
life  in  Italy  with  Heraclian’s  expedition.  Quick — take 
the  jewels,  and  breed  fresh  troubles  for  yourself  with 
them.  I am  going.  My  liberators  are  battering  the 
outer  door  already.” 

Miriam  greedily  tore  out  of  the  closet  diamonds  and 
pearls,  rubies  and  emeralds,  and  concealed  them  among 
her  ample  robes.  “ Go ! go ! Escape  from  her ! I will 
hide  your  jewels!  ” 

“Ay,  hide  them,  as  mother  earth  does  all  things,  in 
that  all-embracing  bosom.  You  will  have  doubled 
them  before  we  meet  again,  no  doubt.  Farewell, 
mother ! ” 

“But  not  forever,  Raphael!  not  forever!  Promise 
me,  in  the  name  of  the  four  archangels,  that  if  you 
are  in  trouble  or  danger,  you  will  write  to  me,  at  the 
house  of  Eudaimon.” 


138 


HYPATIA. 


“The  little  porter  philosopher,  who  hangs  about 
Hypatia’s  lecture-room  ? ” 

“ The  same,  the  same.  He  will  give  me  your  letter, 
and  I swear  to  you,  I will  cross  the  mountains  of  Kaf 
to  deliver  you ! I will  pay  you  all  hack.  By  Abraham, 
Isaac,  and  Jacob  I swear!  May  my  tongue  cleave  to 
the  roof  of  my  mouth,  if  1 do  not  account  to  you  for 
the  la  st  penny ! ” 

“ Don’t  commit  yourself  to  rash  promises,  my  dear 
lady.  If  I am  bored  with  poverty  > I can  but  borrow  a 
few  gold  pieces  of  a rabbi,  and  turn  peddler.  I really 
do  not  trust  you  to  pay  me  back,  so  I shall  not  be  dis- 
appointed if  you  do  not.  Why  should  I ?” 

“Because — because  — O God!  No  — never  mind! 
You  shall  have  all  back.  Spirit  of  Elias  ! where  is 
the  black  agate  ? Wrhy  is  it  not  among  these  ? The 
broken  half  of  the  black  agate  talisman ! ” 

Raphael  turned  pale.  “ How  did  you  know  that  I 
have  a black  agate  ? ” 

“ How  did  I ? How  did  I not  ? ” cried  she,  clutching 
him  by  the  arm.  “ Where  is  it  ? All  depends  on  that ! 
Fool!”  she  went  on,  throwing  him  off  from  her  at 
arm’s-length,  as  a sudden  suspicion  stung  her,  “you 
have  not  given  it  to  the  heathen  woman  ? ” 

“ By  the  soul  of  my  fathers,  then,  you  mysterious 
old  witch,  you  seem  to  know  everything.  That  is  ex- 
actly what  I have  done.” 

Miriam  cla  pped  her  hands  together  wildly.  “ Lost ! 
lost!  lost!  No!  I will  have  it,  if  I tear  it  out  of  her 
heart ! I will  be  avenged  of  her — the  strange  woman 
who  flatters  with  her  words,  to  whom  the  simple  go  in, 
and  know  not  that  the  dead  are  there,  and  that  her 
guests  are  in  the  depths  of  hell  ? God  do  so  to  me,  and 
more  also,  if  she  and  her  sorceries  be  on  earth  a twelve- 
month  hence ! ” 


HYPATIA. 


139 


"Silence,  Jezebel!  Heathen  or  none,  she  is  as  pure 
as  the  sunlight!  I only  gave  it  her  because  she  fan- 
cied the  talisman  upon  it.” 

" To  enchant  you  with  it  to  your  ruin ! ” 

"Brute  of  a slave-dealer!  you  fancy  every  one  as 
base  as  the  poor  wretches  whom  you  buy  and  sell  to 
shame,  that  you  may  make  them  as  much  the  children 
of  hell,  if  that  be  possible,  as  yourself ! ” 

Miriam  looked  at  him,  her  large  black  eyes  widening 
and  kindling.  For  an  instant  she  felt  for  her  poniard 
— and  then  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears,  hid  her  face  in 
her  withered  hands,  and  rushed  from  the  room,  as  a 
crash  and  shout  below  announced  thp  bursting  of  the 
door. 

"There  she  goes  with  m3r  jewels.  And  here  come 
my  guests,  with  the  young  monk  at  their  head.  One 
rising  when  the  other  sets.  A worthy  pair  of  Dioscuri ! 
Come,  Bran!  . . . Boys!  Slaves!  Where  are  you? 
Steal  every  one  what  he  can  lay  his  hands  on,  and  run 
for  your  lives  through  the  back  gate.” 

The  slaves  had  obeyed  him  already.  He  walked 
smilingly  down-stairs  through  utter  solitude,  and  in 
the  front  passage  met  face  to  face  the  mob  of  monks, 
costermongers,  and  dock-workers,  fishwives  and  beg- 
gars, who  were  thronging  up  the  narrow  entry,  and 
bursting  into  the  doors  right  and  left;  and  at  their 
head,  alas!  the  young  monk  who  had  just  trampled 
the  necklace  into  the  mud  . . . no  other,  in  fact,  than 
Philammon. 

"Welcome,  my  worthy  guests!  Enter,  I beseech 
you,  and  fulfil,  in  your  own  peculiar  way,  the  precepts 
which  bid  you  not  be  over  anxious  for  the  good  things 
of  this  life.  . . . For  eating  and  drinking,  my  kitchen 
and  cellar  are  at  your  service.  For  clothing,  if  any 
illustrious  personage  will  do  me  the  honor  to  change 


140 


HYPATIA. 


his  holy  rags  with  me,  here  are  an  Indian  shawl-pelisse 
and  a pair  of  silk  trousers  at  his  service.  Perhaps  you 
will  accommodate  me,  my  handsome  young  captain, 
choragus  of  this  new  school  of  the  prophets  ? ” 

Philammon,  who  was  the  person  addressed,  tried  to 
push  by  him  contemptuously. 

“Allow  me,  sir.  I lead  the  way.  This  dagger  is 
poisoned — a scratch  and  you  are  dead.  This  dog  is  of 
the  true  British  breed ; if  she  seizes  you,  red  hot  iron 
will  not  loose  her,  till  she  hears  the  bone  crack.  If 
any  one  will  change  clothes  with  me,  all  I have  is  at 
your  service.  If  not,  the  first  that  stirs  is  a dead 
man.” 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  quiet,  high-bred  deter- 
mination of  the  speaker.  Had  he  raged  and  blustered, 
Philammon  could  have  met  him  on  his  own  ground, 
but  there  was  an  easy,  self-possessed  disdain  about 
him  which  utterly  abashed  the  young  monk,  and 
abashed,  too,  the  whole  crowd  of  rascals  at  his  heels. 

“I'll  change  clothes  with  you,  you  Jewish  dog!” 
roared  a dirty  fellow  out  of  the  mob. 

“I  am  your  eternal  debtor.  Let  us  step  into  this 
side  room.  Walk  up-stairs,  my  friends.  Take  care 
there,  sir!  That  porcelain,  whole,  is  worth  three 
thousand  gold  pieces;  broken,  it  is  not  worth  three 
pence.  I leave  it  to  your  good  sense  to  treat  it  ac- 
cordingly. Now,  then,  my  friend.”  And  in  the  midst 
of  the  raging  vortex  of  plunderers,  who  were  snatch- 
ing up  everything  which  they  could  carry  away,  and 
breaking  everything  which  they  could  not,  he  quietly 
divested  himself  of  his  finery,  and  put  on  the  ragged 
cotton  tunic  and  battered  straw  hat  which  the  fellow 
handed  over  to  him. 

Philammon,  who  had  had  from  the  first  no  mind  to 
plunder,  stood  watching  Raphael  with  dumb  wonder; 


HYPATIA. 


141 


and  a shudder  of  regret,  he  knew  not  why,  passed 
through  him,  as  he  saw  the  mob  tearing  dowm  pictures, 
and  dashing  statues  to  the  ground.  Heathen  they  were, 
doubtless;  hut  still,  the  Nymphs  and  Yenuses  looked 
too  lovely  to  he  so  brutally  destroyed.  . . . There  was 
something  almost  humanly  pitiful  in  their  poor  broken 
arms  and  legs,  as  they  lay  about  upon  the  pavement. 
. . . He  laughed  at  himself  for  the  notion;  but  he 
could  not  laugh  it  away. 

Raphael  seemed  to  think  that  he  ought  not  to  laugh 
it  away;  for  he  pointed  to  the  fragments,  and  with  a 
quaint  look  at  the  young  monk, — 

“ Our  nurses  used  to  tell  us, — 

‘ If  you  can’t  make  it 
You  ought  not  to  break  it.’  ” 

“I  had  no  nurse,”  said  Philammon. 

“Ah!  that  accounts  — for  this  and  other  things. 
Well,”  he  went  on,  with  the  most  provoking  good- 
nature, “you  are  in  a fair  road,  my  handsome  youth; 
I wish  you  joy  of  your  fellow-workmen,  and  of  your 
apprenticeship  in  the  noble  art  of  monkery.  Riot  and 
pillage,  shrieking  women  and  houseless  children,  in 
your  twentieth  summer,  are  the  sure  path  to  a saint- 
ship,  such  as  Paul  of  Tarsus,  who,  with  all  his  eccen- 
tricities, was  a gentleman,  certainly  never  contem- 
plated. I have  heard  of  Phoebus  Apollo  under  many 
disguises,  but  this  is  the  first  time  I ever  saw  him  in 
the  wolf's  hide.” 

“ Or  in  the  lion's,”  said  Philammon,  trying  in  his 
shame  to  make  a fine  speech. 

“ Like  the  Ass  in  the  Fable.  Farewell  ? Stand  out 
of  the  way,  friends!  ’Ware  teeth  and  poison!  ” 

And  he  disappeared  among  the  crowd,  who  made 
way  respectfully  enough  for  his  dagger  and  his  brin- 
dled companion. 


142 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THOSE  BY  WHOM  OFFENSES  COME. 

Philammon's  heart  smote  him  all  that  day,  when- 
ever he  thoug'ht  of  his  morning's  work.  Till  then  all 
Christians,  monks  above  all,  had  been  infallible  in  his 
eyes:  all  Jews  and  heathens  insane  and  accursed. 
Moreover,  meekness  under  insult,  fortitude  in  calamity, 
and  contempt  of  worldly  comfort,  the  worship  of  pov- 
erty as  a noble  estate,  were  virtues  which  the  Church 
Catholic  boasted  as  her  peculiar  heritage:  on  which 
side  had  the  balance  of  those  qualities  inclined  that 
morning  ? The  figure  of  Raphael,  stalking  out  ragged 
and  penniless  into  the  wide  world,  haunted  him,  with 
its  quiet,  self-assured  smile.  And  there  haunted  him, 
too,  another  peculiarity  in  the  man,  which  he  had 
never  before  remarked  in  any  one  but  Arsenius — that 
ease  and  grace,  that  courtesy  and  self-restraint,  which 
made  Raphael's  rebukes  rankle  all  the  more  keenly, 
because  he  felt  that  the  rebuker  was  in  some  mysteri- 
ous way  superior  to  him,  and  saw  through  him,  and 
could  have  won  him  over,  or  crushed  him  in  argument, 
or  in  intrigue — or  in  anything,  perhaps,  except  mere 
brute  force.  Strange — that  Raphael,  of  all  men,  should 
in  those  few  moments  have  reminded  him  so  much  of 
Arsenius;  and  that  the  very  same  qualities  which 
gave  a peculiar  charm  to  the  latter  should  give  a 
peculiar  unloveliness  to  the  former,  and  yet  be,  with- 
out a doubt,  the  same.  What  was  it?  Was  it  rank 
which  gave  it  ? Arsenius  had  been  a great  man,  he 


HYPATIA. 


143 


knew — the  companion  of  king's.  And  Raphael  seemed 
rich.  He  had  heard  the  mob  crying  out  against  the 
prefect  for  favoring  him.  Was  it  then  familiarity 
with  the  great  ones  of  the  world  which  produced  this 
manner  and  tone  ? It  was  a real  strength,  whether 
in  Arsenius  or  in  Raphael.  He  felt  humbled  before  it 
— envied  it.  If  it  made  Arsenius  a more  complete  and 
more  captivating  person,  why  should  it  not  do  the  same 
for  him  ? Why  should  not  he,  too,  have  his  share  of  it  ? 

Bringing  with  it  such  thoughts  as  these,  the  time 
ran  on  till  noon,  and  the  midday  meal,  and  the  after- 
noon’s work,  to  which  Philammon  looked  forward  joy- 
fully, as  a refuge  from  his  own  thoughts. 

He  was  sitting  on  his  sheepskin  upon  a step,  basking, 
like  a true  son  of  the  desert,  in  a blaze  of  fiery  sun- 
shine, which  made  the  black  stonework  too  hot  to 
touch  with  the  bare  hand,  watching  the  swallows,  as 
they  threaded  the  columns  of  the  Serapeium,  and  think- 
ing how  often  he  had  delighted  in  their  air-dance,  as 
they  turned  and  hawked  up  and  down  the  dear  old 
glen  at  Scetis.  A crowd  of  citizens,  with  causes,  ap- 
peals, and  petitions,  were  passing  in  and  out  from  the 
patriarch’s  audience-room.  Peter  and  the  archdeacon 
were  waiting  in  the  shade  close  by  for  the  gathering 
of  the  parabolani,  and  talking  over  the  morning’s 
work  in  an  earnest  whisper,  in  which  the  names  of 
Hypatia  and  Orestes  were  now  and  then  audible. 

An  old  priest  came  up,  and  bowing  reverently  enough 
to  the  archdeacon,  requested  the  help  of  one  of  the 
parabolani.  He  had  a sailor’s  family,  all  fever-stricken, 
who  must  be  removed  to  the  hospital  at  once. 

The  archdeacon  looked  at  him,  answered  an  off- 
hand “ Y ery  well,”  and  went  on  with  his  talk. 

The  priest,  bowing  lower  than  before,  represented 
the  immediate  necessity  for  help. 


144 


HYPATIA. 


“ It  is  very  odd,”  said  Peter  to  the  swallows  in  the 
Serapeium,  “that  some  people  cannot  obtain  influence 
enough  in  their  own  parishes  to  get  the  simplest  good 
works  performed  without  tormenting  his  holiness  the 
patriarch.” 

The  old  priest  mumbled  some  sort  of  excuse,  and  the 
archdeacon,  without  deigning  a second  look  at  him, 
said,  “ Find  him  a man,  brother  Peter.  Anybod}^  will 
do.  What  is  that  bo}T — Philammon — doing  there  ? 
Let  him  go  with  Master  Hieracas.” 

Peter  seemed  not  to  receive  the  proposition  favora- 
bly,  and  whispered  something  to  the  archdeacon.  . . . 

“No.  I can  spare  none  of  the  rest.  Importunate 
persons  must  take  their  chance  of  being  well  served. 
Come — here  our  brethren;  we  will  all  go  together.” 

“ The  further  together  the  better  for  the  boy's  sake,” 
grumbled  Peter,  loud  enough  for  Philammon — perhaps 
for  the  old  priest — to  overhear  him. 

So  Philammon  went  out  with  them,  and  as  he  went 
questioned  his  companions,  meekly  enough,  as  to  who 
Raphael  was. 

“A  friend  of  Hypatia ! ” that  name,  too,  haunted  him; 
and  he  began,  as  stealthily  and  indirectly  as  he  could, 
to  obtain  information  about  her.  There  was  no  need 
for  his  caution;  for  the  very  mention  of  her  name 
roused  the  whole  party  into  a fury  of  execration. 

“ May  God  confound  her,  siren,  enchantress,  dealer 
in  spells  and  sorceries ! She  is  the  strange  woman  of 
whom  Solomon  prophesied.” 

“It  is  my  opinion,”  said  another,  “that  she  is  the 
forerunner  of  Antichrist.” 

“ Perhaps  the  virgin  of  whom  it  is  prophesied  that 
he  will  be  born,”  suggested  another. 

“Not  that,  I'll  warrant  her,”  said  Peter,  with  a 
savage  sneer. 


HYPATIA. 


145 


“And  is  Raphael  Aben-Ezra  her  pupil  in  philoso- 
phy?” asked  Philammon. 

“Her  pupil  in  whatsoever  she  can  find  wherewith  to 
delude  men's  souls/'  said  the  old  priest.  “ The  reality 
of  philosophy  has  died  long-  ago,  bub  the  great  ones 
find  it  still  worth  their  while  to  worship  its  shadow.'' 

“ Some  of  them  worship  more  than  a shadow,  when 
they  haunt  her  house/'  said  Peter.  “ Do  you  think 
Orestes  goes  thither  only  for  philosophy  ?" 

“We  must  not  judge  harsh  judgments,''  said  the  old 
priest ; “ Synesius  of  Cyrene  is  a holy  man,  and  yet  he 
loves  Hypatia  well.'' 

“ He  a holy  man  ? — and  keeps  a wife ! One  who  had 
the  insolence  to  tell  the  blessed  Theophilus  himself 
that  he  would  not  be  made  bishop  unless  he  were  al- 
lowed to  remain  with  her;  and  despised  the  gift  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  in  comparison  of  the  carnal  joys  of  wed- 
lock, not  knowing  the  Scriptures,  which  saith  that 
those  who  are  in  the  flesh  cannot  please  God.  Well 
said  Siricius  of  Rome  of  such  men — ‘Can  the  Holy 
Spirit  of  God  dwell  in  other  than  holy  bodies?'  Ho 
wonder  that  such  a one  as  Synesius  grovels  at  the  feet 
of  Orestes'  mistress ! " 

“ Then  she  is  profligate  ? ''  asked  Philammon. 

“She  must  be.  Has  a heathen  face  and  grace! 
And  without  faith  and  grace,  are  not  all  our  righteous- 
ness as  filthy  rags  ? What  says  St.  Paul — That  God 
has  given  them  over  to  a reprobate  mind,  full  of  all 
injustice,  uncleanliness,  covetousness,  maliciousness, 
you  know  the  catalogue — why  do  you  ask  me  ?'' 

“Alas ! and  is  she  this ! '' 

“Alas!  And  why  alas?  How  would  the  Gospel  be 
glorified  if  heathens  were  holier  than  Christians  ? It 
ought  to  be  so,  therefore  it  is  so.  If  she  seems  to  have 
virtues,  they,  being  done  without  the  grace  of  Christ, 

io 


146 


HYPATIA. 


are  only  bedizened  vices,  cunning'  shams,  the  devil 
transformed  into  an  angel  of  light.  And  as  for  chas- 
tity, the  flower  and  crown  of  all  virtues — whosoever 
says  that  she,  being  yet  a heathen,  has  that,  blas- 
phemes the  Holy  Spirit,  whose  peculiar  and  highest 
gift  it  is,  and  is  anathema  maranatha  forever!  Amen ! ” 
And  Peter,  devoutly  crossing  himself,  turned  angrily 
and  contemptuously  away  from  his  young  companion. 

Phila  mmon  was  quite  shrewd  enough  to  see  that 
assertion  was  not  identical  with  proof.  But  Peter’s 
argument  of  “ it  ought  to  be,  therefore  it  is,”  is  one 
which  saves  a great  deal  of  trouble  . . . and  no  doubt 
he  had  very  good  sources  of  information.  So  Philam- 
mon  walked  on,  sad,  he  knew  not  why,  at  the  new 
notion  which  he  had  formed  of  Hypatia,  as  a sort  of 
awful  sorceress  Messalina,  whose  den  was  foul  with 
magic  rites  and  ruined  souls  of  men.  And  yet,  if  that 
was  all  she  had  to  teach,  whence  had  her  pupil  Raphael 
learned  that  fortitude  of  his  ? If  philosophy  had,  as 
they  said,  utterly  died  out,  then  what  was  Raphael  ? 

Just  then,  Peter  and  the  rest  turned  up  a side  street 
and  Philammon  and  Hieracas  were  left  to  go  on  their 
joint  errand  together.  They  paced  on  for  some  way 
in  silence  up  one  street  and  down  another,  till  Philam- 
mon, for  want  of  anything  better  to  say,  asked  where 
they  were  going  ? 

“ Where  I choose,  at  all  events.  No,  young  man! 
If  I,  a priest,  am  to  be  insulted  by  archdeacons  and 
readers,  I won’t  be  insulted  by  you.” 

“ I assure  you  I meant  no  harm.” 

“Of  course  not;  you  all  learn  the  same  trick,  and 
the  young  ones  catch  it  of  the  old  ones  fast  enough. 
Words  smoother  than  butter,  yet  very  swords.” 

“You  do  not  mean  to  complain  of  the  archdeacon 
and  his  companions  ? ” said  Philammon,  who  of  course 


HYPATIA. 


147 


was  boiling  over  with  pug'nacious  respect  for  the  body 
to  which  he  belonged. 

No  answer. 

“Why,  sir,  are  they  not  among  the  most  holy  and 
devoted  of  men?” 

“Ah — yes/’  said  his  companion,  in  a tone  which 
sounded  very  like  “Ah — no.” 

“ You  do  not  think  so  ?”  asked  Philammon,  bluntly. 
“You  are  young,  you  are  young.  Wait  awhile  till 
you  have  seen  as  much  as  I have.  A degenerate  age 
this,  my  son : not  like  the  good  old  times,  when  men 
dare  sulfer  and  die  for  the  faith.  We  are  too  prosper- 
ous nowadays;  and  fine  ladies  walk  about  with  Mag' 
dalens  embroidered  on  their  silks,  and  gospels  hanging 
round  their  necks.  When  I was  young,  they  died  for 
that  with  which  they  now  bedizen  themselves.” 

“ But  I was  speaking  of  the  parabolani.” 

“Ah,  there  are  a great  many  among  them  who  have 
not  much  business  where  they  are.  Don’t  say  I said 
so.  But  many  a rich  man  puts  his  name  on  the  list  of 
the  guild  just  to  get  his  exemption  from  taxes,  and 
leaves  the  work  to  poor  men  like  you.  Rotten,  rotten! 
my  son,  and  you  will  find  it  out.  The  preachers,  now 
— people  used  to  say — I know  Abbot  Isidore  did — that 
I had  as  good  a gift  for  expounding  as  any  man  in 
Pelusium;  but  since  I came  here,  eleven  years  since,  if 
you  will  believe  it,  I have  been  asked  to  preach  in  my 
own  parish  church.” 

“ You  surely  jest ! ” 

“ True,  as  I am  a christened  man.  I know  why — I 
know  why:  they  are  afraid  of  Isidore’s  men  here.  . . . 
Perhaps  they  may  have  caught  the  holy  man’s  trick 
of  plain  speaking — and  ears  are  dainty  in  Alexandria. 
And  there  are  some  in  these  parts,  too,  that  have  never 
forgiven  him  the  part  he  took  about  those  three  vil- 


148 


HYPATIA. 


lains,  Maro,  Zosimus,  and  Martinian,  and  a certain 
letter  that,  came  of  it;  or  another  letter,  either  which 
we  know  of,  about  taking  alms  for  the  church  from 
the  g*ains  of  robbers  and  usurers.  f Cyril  never  forgets/ 
So  he  says  to  ever}7  one  who  does  him  a good  turn.  . . . 
And  so  he  does  to  every  one  who  he  fancies  has  done 
him  a bad  one.  So  here  am  I,  slaving  away,  a sub- 
ordinate priest,  while  such  fellows  as  Peter  the  Reader 
look  down  on  me  as  their  slave.  But  it’s  always  so. 
There  never  was  a bishop  yet,  except  the  blessed 
Augustine — would  to  Heaven  I had  taken  my  abbot’s 
advice  and  gone  to  him  at  Hippo ! — who  had  not  his 
flatterers  and  his  tale-bearers,  and  generally  the  arch- 
deacon at  the  head  of  them,  ready  to  step  into  the 
bishop’s  place  when  he  dies,  over  the  heads  of  hard- 
working parish  priests.  But  that  is  the  way  of  the 
world.  The  sleekest,  and  the  oiliest,  and  the  noisiest; 
the  man  who  can  bring  most  money  to  the  charities, 
never  mind  whence  or  how;  the  man  who  will  take 
most  of  the  bishop’s  work  off  his  hands,  and  agree 
with  him  in  everything*  he  wants,  and  save  him  by 
spying  and  eavesdropping,  the  trouble  of  using  his 
own  ey7es;  that  is  the  man  to  succeed  in  Alexandria 
or  Constantinople,  or  Rome  itself.  Look  now;  there 
are  but  seven  deacons  to  this  great  city,  and  all  its 
priests;  and  they  and  the  archdeacon  are  the  masters 
of  it  and  us.  They  and  that  Peter  manage  Cyril’s 
work  for  him,  and  when  Cyril  makes  the  archdeacon  a 
bishop,  he  will  make  Peter  archdeacon.  . . . They  have 
their  reward,  they  have  their  reward ; and  so  has  Cyril, 
for  that  matter.” 

“ How  ? ” 

“ Why,  don’t  say  I said  it.  But  what  do  I care  ? I 
have  nothing  to  lose,  I’m  sure.  But  they  do  say  that 
there  are  two  ways  of  promotion  in  Alexandria:  one 


HYPATIA. 


149 


by  deserving-  it,  the  other  by  paying*  for  it.  That's 
all." 

“ Impossible ! " 

“Oh,  of  course,  quite  impossible.  But  ail  I know 
is  just  this,  that  when  that  fellow  Martmian  got  back 
again  into  Pelusium,  after  being*  turned  out  by  the  late 
bishop  for  a rogue  and  hypocrite  as  he  was,  and  got 
the  ear  of  this  present  bishop,  and  was  appointed  his 
steward,  and  ordained  priest — I'd  as  soon  have  ordained 
that  street-dog — and  plundered  him  and  brought  him 
to  disgrace — for  I don't  believe  this  bishop  is  a bad 
man,  but  those  who  use  rogues  must  expect  to  be 
called  rogues — and  ground  the  poor  to  the  earth,  and 
tyrannized  over  the  whole  city  so  that  no  man's  prop- 
erty, or  reputation,  scarcely  their  lives,  were  safe ; and 
after  all,  had  the  impudence,  when  he  was  called  on 
for  his  accounts,  to  bring  the  Church  in  as  owing  him 
money;  I just  know  this,  that  he  added  to  all  his  other 
shamelessness  this,  that  he  offered  the  patriarch  a 
large  sum  of  money  to  buy  a bishopric  of  him.  . . . 
And  what  do  you  think  the  patriarch  answered  ? " 

“ Excommunicated  the  sacrilegious  wretch,  of 
course ! " 

“ Sent  him  a letter  to  say  that  if  he  dared  bo  do  such 
a thing  again  he  should  really  be  forced  to  expose  him ! 
So  the  fellow,  taking  courage,  brought  his  money  him- 
self the  next  time;  and  all  the  world  says  that  Cyril 
would  have  made  him  a bishop  after  all,  if  Abbot  Isi- 
dore had  not  written  to  remonstrate." 

“He  could  not  have  known  the  man's  character," 
said  Philammon,  hunting  for  an  excuse. 

“ The  whole  Delta  was  ringing  with  it.  Isidore  had 
written  to  him  again  and  again." 

“ Surely,  then,  his  wish  was  to  prevent  scandal,  and 
preserve  the  unity  of  the  Church  in  the  eyes  of  the 
heathen." 


HYPATIA. 


150 

The  old  man  laughed  bitterly, 

“Ah,  the  old  story — of  preventing  scandals  by  re- 
taining  them,  and  fancying  that  sin  is  a less  evil  than 
a little  noise,  as  if  the  worst  of  all  scandals  was  not 
the  being  discovered  in  hushing  up  a scandal.  And  as 
for  unity,  if  you  want  that,  you  must  go  back  to  the 
good  old  times  of  Dioclesian  and  Decius.” 

“ The  persecutors  ? ” 

“Ay,  boy — to  the  times  of  persecution,  when  Chris- 
tians died  like  brothers,  because  they  lived  like  brothers. 
You  will  see  very  little  of  that  now,  except  in  some 
little  remote  county  bishopric  which  no  one  ever  hears 
of  from  year’s  end  to  year’s  end.  But  in  the  cities  it 
is  all  one  great  fight  for  place  and  power.  Every  one 
is  jealous  of  his  neighbor.  The  priests  are  jealous  of 
the  deacons,  and  good  cause  they  have.  The  county 
bishops  are  jealous  of  the  Metropolitan  and  he  is  jeal- 
ous of  the  North  African  bishops,  and  quite  right  he 
is.  What  business  have  they  to  set  up  for  themselves, 
as  if  they  were  infallible  ? It’s  a schism,  I say — a com- 
plete schism.  The}7  are  just  as  bad  as  their  own  Dona- 
tists.  Did  not  the  council  of  Nice  settle  that  the 
Metropolitan  of  Alexandria  should  have  authority 
over  Libya  and  Pentabolis,  according  to  the  ancient 
custom  ? ” 

“ Of  course  he  ought,”  said  Philammon,  jealous  for 
the  honor  of  his  own  patriarchate. 

“And  the  patriarchs  of  Rome  and  Constantinople 
are  jealous  of  our  patriarch.” 

“Of  Cyril?” 

“ Of  course,  because  he  won’t  be  at  their  beck  and 
nod,  and  let  them  be  lords  and  masters  of  Africa.” 

“ But  surely  these  things  can  be  settled  b}7  councils  ? ” 

“Councils?  Wait  till  you  have  been  at  one.  The 
blessed  Abbot  Isidore  used  to  sa}T,  that  if  he  ever  was 


HYPATIA. 


151 


a bishop — which  he  never  will  be — he  is  far  too  honest 
for  that — he  would  never  go  near  one  of  them;  for  he 
never  had  seen  one  which  did  not  call  out  every  evil 
passion  in  men’s  hearts,  and  leave  the  question  more 
confounded  with  words  than  they  found  it,  even  if  the 
whole  matter  was  not  settled  beforehand  by  some 
chamberlain  or  eunuch,  or  cook  sent  from  Court,  as  if 
he  were  an  anointed  vessel  of  the  Spirit,  to  settle  the 
dogmas  of  the  Holy  Catholic  Church.” 

"Cook?" 

"Why,  Yalens  sent  his  chief  cook  to  stop  Basil  of 
Csesarea  from  opposing  the  Court  doctrine.  ...  I tell 
you  the  great  battle  in  these  cases  is  to  get  votes  from 
Court,  or  to  get  to  Court  yourself.  When  I was 
young,  the  Council  of  Antioch  had  to  make  a law  to 
keep  bishops  from  running  off  to  Constantinople  to 
intrigue,  under  pretense  of  pleading  the  cause  of  the 
orphan  and  widow.  But  what’s  the  use  of  that,  when 
every  noisy  and  ambitious  man  shifts  and  shifts,  from 
one  see  to  another,  till  he  settles  himself  close  to  Rome 
or  Byzantium,  and  gets  the  emperor’s  ear,  and  plays 
into  the  hands  of  his  courtiers  ? ” 

" Is  it  not  written,  e Speak  not  evil  of  dignities  ’ ? ” 
said  Philammon,  in  his  most  sanctimonious  tone. 

"Well,  what  of  that  ? I don’t  speak  evil  of  dignities, 
when  I complain  of  the  men  who  fill  them  badly,  do  I ?” 
" I never  heard  that  interpretation  of  the  text  before.” 
"Very  likely  not.  That’s  no  reason  why  it  should 
not  be  true  and  orthodox.  You  will  soon  hear  a good 
many  more  things,  which  are  true  enough — though 
whether  they  are  orthodox  or  not,  the  Court  cooks 
must  settle.  Of  course,  I am  a disappointed,  irrever- 
ent old  grumbler.  Of  course,  and  of  course,  too,  young 
men  must  needs  buy  their  own  experience,  instead  of 
taking  old  folks’  at  a gift.  There — use  your  own  eyes, 


152 


HYPATIA. 


and  judge  for  yourself.  There  you  may  see  what  sort 
of  saints  are  bred  by  this  plan  of  managing  the  Cath- 
olic Church.  There  comes  one  of  them.  Now!  I say 
no  more ! ” 

As  he  spoke,  two  tall  negroes  came  up  to  them,  and 
set  down  before  the  steps  of  a large  church  which  they 
were  passing,  an  object  new  to  Philammon — a sedan- 
chair — the  poles  of  which  were  inlaid  with  ivory  and 
silver,  and  the  upper  part  inclosed  in  rose-colored  silk 
curtains. 

“What  is  inside  that  cage?”  asked  he  of  the  old 
priest,  as  the  negroes  stood  wiping  the  perspiration 
from  their  foreheads,  and  a smart  slave-girl  stepped 
forward,  with  a parasol  and  slippers  in  her  hand,  and 
reverently  lifted  the  lower  edge  of  the  curtain. 

“A  saint,  I tell  you ! ” 

An  embroidered  shoe,  with  a large  gold  cross  on  the 
instep,  was  put  forth  delicately  from  beneath  the  cur- 
tain, and  the  kneeling  maid  put  on  the  slipper  over  it. 

“ There ! ” whispered  the  old  grumbler.  “ Not  enough, 
you  see,  to  use  Christian  men  as  beasts  of  burden — 
Abbot  Isidore  used  to  say — ay,  and  told  Iron,  the 
pleader,  to  his  face,  that  he  could  not  conceive  how  a 
man  who  loved  Christ,  and  knew  the  grace  which  has 
made  all  men  free,  could  keep  a slave.” 

“Nor  can  I,”  said  Philammon. 

“But  we  think  otherwise,  you  see,  in  Alexandria 
here.  We  can't  even  walk  up  the  steps  of  God's  tem- 
ple without  an  additional  protection  to  our  delicate 
feet.” 

“ I had  thought  it  was  written,  ‘ Put  off  thy  shoes 
from  off  thy  feet,  for  the  place  where  thou  standest  is 
holy  ground.'  ” 

“Ah!  there  are  a good  many  more  things  written 
which  we  do  not  find  it  convenient  to  recollect. 


HYPATIA. 


153 


Look!  There  is  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  church — the 
richest  and  most  pious  lady  in  Alexandria.” 

And  fortn  stepped  a figure,  at  which  Philammon’s 
eyes  opened  wider  than  they  had  done  even  at  the 
sight  of  Pelagia.  Whatever  thoughts  the  rich  and 
careless  grace  of  her  attire  might  have  raised  in  his 
mind,  it  had  certainly  not  given  his  innate  Greek  good 
taste  the  inclination  to  laugh  and  weep  at  once,  which 
he  felt  at  this  specimen  of  the  tasteless  fashion  of  an 
artificial  and  decaying  civilization.  Her  gown  was 
stuffed  out  behind  in  a fashion  which  provoked  from 
the  dirty  boys  who  lay  about  the  steps,  gam  bling  for 
pistachios  on  their  fingers,  the  same  comments  with 
which  St.  Clement  had  upbraided  from  the  pulpit  the 
Alexandrian  ladies  of  his  day.  The  said  gown  of  white 
silk  was  bedizened,  from  waist  to  ankle,  with  certain 
mysterious  red  and  green  figures  at  least  a foot  long, 
which  Philammon  gradually  discovered  to  be  a rep- 
resentation, in  the  very  lowest  and  ugliest  style  of 
fallen  art,  of  Dives  and  Lazarus;  while  down  her  back 
hung,  upon  a bright  blue  shawl,  edged  with  embroidered 
crosses,  Job  sitting,  potsherd  in  hand,  surrounded  by 
his  three  friends — a memorial,  the  old  priest  whispered, 
of  a pilgrimage  which  she  had  taken  a year  or  two  be- 
fore to  Arabia,  to  see  and  kiss  the  identical  dunghill 
on  which  the  patriarch  had  sat. 

Round  her  neck  hung,  by  one  of  half  a dozen  neck- 
laces, a manuscript  of  the  Gospels,  gilt-edged  and 
clasped  with  jewels;  the  lofty  diadem  of  pearls  on  the 
head  carried  in  front  a large  cross;  while  above  and 
around  it,  her  hair,  stiffened  with  pomatum,  was  friz- 
zled out  half  a foot  from  a wilderness  of  plaits  and 
curls,  which  must  have  cost  some  helpless  slave  girl 
an  hour's  work,  and  perhaps  more  than  one  scolding, 
that  very  morning. 


154 


HYPATIA. 


Meekly,  with  simpering*  face  and  downcast  eyes,  and 
now  and  then  a penitent  sigh  and  shake  of  the  head 
and  pressure  of  her  hand  upon  her  jewelled  bosom, 
the  fair  penitent  was  proceeding  up  the  steps,  when 
she  caught  sight  of  the  priest  and  the  monk,  and 
turning  to  them  with  an  obeisance  of  the  deepest  hu- 
mility, entreated  to  be  allowed  to  kiss  the  hem  of  their 
garments. 

“You  had  far  better,  madam,”  said  Philammon 
bluntly  enough,  “kiss  the  hem  of  your  own.  You 
carry  two  lessons  there  which  you  do  not  seem  to  have 
learnt  yet.” 

In  an  instant  her  face  flushed  up  into  pride  and  fury. 
“ I asked  you  for  your  blessing,  and  not  for  a sermon. 
I can  have  that  when  I like.” 

“And  such  as  you  like,”  grumbled  the  old  priest,  as 
she  swept  up  the  steps,  tossing  some  small  coin  to  the 
ragged  boys,  and  murmuring  to  herself,  loud  enough 
for  Philammon’s  hearing,  that  she  should  certainly  in- 
form the  confessor,  and  that  she  would  not  be  insulted 
in  the  streets  by  savage  monks. 

“ Now  she  will  confess  her  sins  inside — all  but  those 
which  she  had  been  showing  off  to  us  here  outside,  and 
beat  her  breast,  and  weep  like  a very  Magdalen,  and 
then  the  worthy  man  will  comfort  her  with — ‘What 
a beautiful  chain!  And  what  a shawl — allow  me  to 
touch  it ! How  soft  and  delicate  this  India  wool ! Ah ! 
if  you  knew  the  debts  which  I have  been  compelled 

to  incur  in  the  service  of  the  sanctuary ! 9 And 

then  of  course  the  answer  will  be,  as,  indeed,  he  expects 
it  should,  that  if  it  can  be  of  the  least  use  in  the  serv- 
ice of  the  temple,  she,  of  course,  will  think  it  only  too 
great  an  honor.  . . . And  he  will  keep  the  chain,  and 
perhaps  the  shawl,  too.  And  she  will  go  home,  be- 
lieving that  she  has  fulfilled  to  the  very  letter  the 


HYPATIA. 


155 

command  to  break  off  her  sins  by  almsgiving,  and  only 
sorry  that  the  good  priest  happened  to  hit  on  that 
particular  gewgaw ! ” 

"What,"  asked  Philammon;  “dare  she  actually  not 
refuse  such  importunity  ? " 

“From  a poor  priest  like  me,  stoutly  enough;  but 
from  a popular  ecclesiastic  like  him.  . . . As  Jerome 
says,  in  a letter  of  his  I once  saw,  ladies  think  twice 
in  such  cases  before  they  offend  the  city  newsmonger. 
Have  you  anything  more  to  say  ?” 

Philammon  had  nothing  to  say;  and  wisely  held  his 

peace,  while  the  old  grumbler  ran  on 

“Ah,  boy,  you  have  yet  to  learn  city  fashions! 
When  you  are  a little  older,  instead  of  speaking 
unpleasant  truths  to  a fine  lad3^  with  a cross  on  her 
forehead,  you  will  be  ready  to  run  to  the  pillars  of 
Hercules  at  her  beck  and  nod  for  the  sake  of  her  dis- 
interested help  toward  a fashionable  pulpit,  or  perhaps 
the  bishopric.  The  ladies  settle  that  for  us  here.” 

“ The  women  ? ” 

“ The  women,  lad.  Do  you  suppose  that  they  heap 
priests  and  churches  with  wealth  for  nothing  ? They 
have  their  rewards.  Do  you  suppose  that  a priest 
gets  into  a pulpit  of  that  church  there  without  look- 
ing anxiously,  at  the  end  of  each  peculiarly  flowery 
sentence,  bo  see  whether  her  saintship  there  is  clapping 
or  not  ? She  has  such  a delicate  sense  for  orthodoxy, 
that  she  can  scent  out  Navatianism  or  Origenism  where 
no  other  mortal  nose  would  suspect  it.  She  who  meets 
at  her  own  house  w eekly  all  the  richest  and  most  pious 
women  of  the  city,  to  settle  our  discipline  for  us,  as 
the  Court  cooks  do  our  doctrine.  She  who  has  even,  it 
is  whispered,  the  ear  of  Augustus  Pulcheria  herself, 
and  sends  monthly  letters  to  her  at  Constantinople, 
and  might  give  the  patriarch  himself  some  trouble,  if 
he  crossed  her  holy  will ! ” 


156 


HYPATIA. 


“ What ! will  Cyril  truckle  to  such  creatures  ? ” 

“ Cyril  is  a wise  man  in  his  generation — too  wise, 
some  say,  for  a child  of  the  light.  But,  at  least,  he 
knows  there  is  no  use  fighting  with  those  whom  you 
cannot  conquer;  and  while  he  can  get  money  out  of 
the  great  ladies  for  his  alms-houses,  and  orphan- 
houses,  and  lodging-houses,  and  hospitals,  and  work- 
shops, and  all  the  rest  of  it — and  in  that,  I will  say  for 
him,  there  is  no  man  on  earth  equal  to  him,  but  Am- 
brose of  Milan  and  Basil  of  Caesarea — why,  I don’t 
quarrel  with  him  for  making  the  best  of  a had  matter, 
and  a very  had  matter  it  is,  hoy,  and  has  been  ever 
since  emperors  and  courtiers  have  given  up  burning 
and  crucifying  us,  and  taken  to  patronizing  and  brib- 
ing us  instead.” 

Philammon  walked  on  in  silence  by  the  old  priest’s 
side  stunned  and  sickened.  . . . “And  this  is  what  I have 
come  out  to  see — reeds  shaken  in  the  wind,  and  men 
clothed  in  soft  raiment,  lit  only  for  kings’  palaces?” 
For  this  he  had  left  the  dear  old  Laura,  and  the  sim- 
ple joys  and  friendships  of  childhood,  and  cast  himself 
into  a roaring  whirlpool  of  labor  and  temptation! 
This  was  the  harmonious  strength  and  unity  of  that 
Church  Catholic,  in  which,  as  he  had  been  taught  from 
boyhood,  there  was  but  one  Lord,  one  Faith,  one  Spirit. 
This  was  the  indivisible  body,  “without  spot  or  wrin- 
kle, which  fitly  joined  together  and  compacted  by  that 
which  every  member  supplied,  according  to  the  effec- 
tual and  proportionate  working  of  every  part,  increased 
the  body,  and  enabled  it  to  build  itself  up  in  love!” 
He  shuddered  as  the  well-known  words  passed  through 
his  memory,  and  seemed  to  mock  the  base  and  chao- 
tic reality  around  him.  He  felt  angry  with  the  old 
man  for  having  broken  his  dream;  he  longed  to  be- 
lieve that  his  complaints  were  only  exaggerations  of 


HYPATIA. 


157 


cynic  peevishness,  of  selfish  disappointment:  and  3ret, 
had  not  Arsenius  warned  him  ? Had  he  not  foretold, 
word  for  word,  what  the  youth  would  find — what  he 
had  found  ? Then  was  St.  Paul’s  great  idea  an  empty 
and  an  impossible  dream  ? No!  God’s  word  could  not 
fail;  the  church  could  not  err.  The  fault  could  not  be 
in  her,  but  in  her  enemies:  not,  as  the  old  man  said, 
in  her  too  great  prosperity,  but  in  her  slavery.  And 
then  the  words  which  he  had  heard  from  Cyril  at  their 
first  interview  rose  before  him  as  the  true  explanation. 
How  could  the  church  work  freely  and  healthily  while 
she  was  crushed  and  fettered  by  the  rulers  of  this 
world  ? And  how  could  they  be  anything  but  the  ty- 
rants and  antichrists  they  were,  while  they  were  men- 
aced and  deluded  by  heathen  philosophy,  and  vain 
systems  of  human  wisdom  ? If  Orestes  was  the  curse 
of  the  Alexandrian  church,  then  Hypatia  was  the 
curse  of  Orestes.  On  her  head  the  true  blame  lay. 
She  was  the  root  of  the  evil.  Who  would  extirpate 
it?  . . . 

Why  should  not  he  ? It  might  be  dangerous;  yet 
successful  or  unsuccessful  it  must  be  glorious.  The 
course  of  Christianity  wanted  great  examples.  Might 
he  not — and  his  young  heart  beat  high  at  the  thought 
— might  he  not,  by  some  great  act  of  daring,  self-sac- 
rifice, divine  madness  of  faith,  like  David’s  of  old,  when 
he  went  out  against  the  giant — awaken  selfish  and 
luxurious  souls  to  a noble  emulation,  and  recall  to  their 
minds,  perhaps  to  their  lives,  the  patterns  of  those 
martyrs  who  were  the  pride,  the  glory,  the  heirloom 
of  Egypt  ? And  as  figure  after  figure  rose  before  his 
imagination,  of  simple  men  and  weak  women  who  had 
conquered  temptation  and  shame,  torture  and  death, 
to  live  forever  on  the  lips  of  men,  and  take  their  seats 
among  the  patricians  of  the  heavenly  court,  with  brows 


158 


HYPATIA. 


glittering-  throug-h  all  eternities  with  the  martyr’s 
crown,  his  heart  beat  thick  and  fast,  and  he  long-ed 
only  for  an  opportunity  to  dare  and  die. 

And  the  longing  begot  the  opportunity.  For  he 
had  hardly  rejoined  his  brother  visitors,  when  the  ab- 
sorbing thought  took  word  again,  and  he  began  ques- 
tioning them  eagerly  for  more  information  about  Hy- 
patia. 

On  that  point,  indeed,  he  obtained  nothing  but  fresh 
invective;  but  when  his  companions,  after  talking  of 
the  triumph  which  the  new  faith  had  gained  that 
morning,  went  on  to  speak  of  the  great  overthrow  of 
paganism  twenty  years  before,  under  the  patriarch 
Theophilus;  of  Olympiodorus  and  his  mob,  who  held 
the  Serapeium  for  many  days  by  force  of  arms  against 
the  Christians,  making  sallies  into  the  city,  and  tor- 
turing and  murdering  the  prisoners  whom  they  took; 
of  the  martyrs  who,  among  those  very  pillars  which 
overhung  their  heads,  had  died  in  torments  rather 
than  sacrifice  to  Serapis;  and  of  the  final  victory  and 
the  soldier  who,  in  presence  of  the  trembling  mob, 
clove  the  great  jaw  of  the  colossal  idol,  and  snapped 
forever  the  spell  of  heathenism,  Philammon’s  heart 
burned  to  distinguish  himself  like  that  soldier,  and  to 
wipe  out  his  qualms  of  conscience  by  some  more  un- 
questionable deed  of  Christian  prowess.  There  were 
no  idols  now  to  break : but  there  was  philosophy — 
“ Why  not  carry  war  into  the  heart  of  the  enemy’s 
camp,  and  beard  Satan  in  his  very  den  ? Why  does 
not  some  man  of  God  go  boldly  into  the  lecture-room 
of  the  sorceress,  and  testify  against  her  to  her  face!  ” 

“ Do  it  yourself,  if  you  dare,”  said  Peter.  “ We  have 
no  wish  to  get  our  brains  knocked  out  by  all  the  profli- 
gate young  gentlemen  in  the  city.” 

“ I will  do  it,”  said  Pliilammon. 


HYPATIA. 


159 


“ That  is  if  his  holiness  allows  you  to  make  such  a 
fool  of  yourself.” 

'‘  Take  care,  sir,  of  your  words.  You  revile  the 
blessed  martyrs,  from  St.  Stephen  to  St.  Telemaclius, 
when  you  call  such  a deed  foolishness.” 

“ I shall  most  certainly  inform  his  holiness  of  your 
insolence.” 

“ Do  so,”  said  Philammon  who,  possessed  with  a new 
idea,  wished  for  nothing-  more.  And  there  the  matter 

dropped  for  the  time. 

* * * * * * 

“ The  presumption  of  the  young*  in  this  g-eneration  is 
growing-  insufferable,”  said  Peter  to  his  master  that 
evening-. 

“ So  much  the  better.  They  put  their  elders  on  their 
mettle  in  the  race  of  g-ood  works.  But  who  has  been 
presuming-  to-day  ? ” 

“ That  mad  boy  whom  Pambo  sent  up  from  the  des- 
ert, dared  to  offer  himself  as  champion  of  the  faith 
ag-ainst  Hypatia.  He  actually  proposed  to  go  into  her 
lecture-room  and  argue  with  her  to  her  face.  What 
think  you  of  that  for  a specimen  of  youthful  modesty, 
and  self-distrust  ? ” 

Cyril  was  silent  awhile. 

“ What  answer  am  1 to  have  the  honor  of  taking 
back  ? A month's  relegation  to  Nitra  on  bread  and 
water  ? You,  I am  sure,  will  not  allow  such  things  to 
go  unpunished;  indeed,  if  they  do,  there  is  an  end  to 
all  authority  and  discipline.” 

Cyril  was  still  silent;  while  Peter's  brow  clouded 
fast.  At  last  he  answered 

“ The  cause  wants  martyrs.  Send  the  boy  to  me.” 

Peter  went  down  with  a shrug,  and  an  expression  of 
face  which  looked  but  too  like  envy,  and  ushered  up 
the  trembling  youth,  who  dropped  on  his  knees  as  soon 
as  he  entered. 


160 


HYPATIA. 


“ So  you  wish  to  go  into  the  heathen  woman’s  lec- 
ture-room and  defy  her  ? Have  you  courage  for  it  ? ” 

“ God  will  give  it  to  me.” 

“You  will  be  murdered  by  her  pupils.” 

“ I can  defend  myself,”  said  Philammon,  with  a par- 
donable glance  downward  at  his  sinewy  limbs.  “And 
if  not:  what  death  more  glorious  than  martyrdom?” 
Cyril  smiled  genially  enough.  “ Promise  me  two 
things.” 

“Two  thousand,  if  you  will.” 

“Two  are  quite  difficult  enough  to  keep.  Youth  is 
rash  in  promises  and  rasher  in  forgetting  them. 
Promise  me  that,  whatever  happens,  you  will  not 
strike  the  first  blow.” 

“I  do.” 

“ Promise  me  again,  that  you  will  not  argue  with 
her.” 

“ What  then  ? ” 

“ Contradict,  denounce,  defy.  But  give  no  reasons. 
If  you  do,  you  are  lost.  She  is  subtler  than  the  serpent, 
skilled  in  all  the  tricks  of  logic,  and  you  will  become  a 
laughing-stock,  and  run  away  in  shame.  Promise  me.” 
“ I do.” 

“ Then  go.” 

“When?” 

“The  sooner  the  better.  At  what  hour  does  the  ac- 
cursed woman  lecture  to-morrow,  Peter?” 

“We  saw  her  going  to  the  Museum  at  nine  this 
morning.” 

“ Then  go  at  nine  to-morrow.  There  is  money  for 
you.” 

“ What  is  this  for  ? ” asked  Philammon,  fingering 
curiouslj"  the  first  coins  which  he  ever  had  handled  in 
his  life. 

“ To  pay  for  your  entrance.  To  the  philosopher  none 


IIYPATIA. 


161 


enters  without  money.  Not  so  to  the  Church  of  God, 
open  all  day  long-  to  the  beggar  and  the  slave.  If  you 

convert  her,  well.  And  if  not ■"  And  he  added  to 

himseif  between  his  teeth,  “And  if  not,  well  also1 — per- 
haps better.” 

“Ay ! ” said  Peter,  bitterly,  as  he  ushered  Philam- 
mon  out.  “ Go  up  to  Ramoth  Gilead,  and  prosper, 
young-  fool!  What  evil  spirit  sent  you  here  to  feed 
the  noble  patriarchy's  only  weakness  ?” 

“ What  do  you  mean  ? ” asked  Philammon,  as  fiercely 
as  he  dared. 

“The  fancy  that  preaching-s,  and  protestations,  and 
martyrdoms  can  drive  out  the  Canaanites,  who  can 
only  be  g-ot  rid  of  with  the  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of 
Gideon.  His  uncle  Theophilus  knew  that  well  enough.. 
If  he  had  not,  Olympiodorus  might  have  been  master- 
of  Alexandria,  and  incense  burning  before  Serapis  to 
this  day.  Ay,  go,  and  let  her  convert  you!  Touch 
the  accursed*  thing,  like  Achan,  and  see  if  you  do  not, 
end  by  having  it  in  your  tent.  Keep  company  with 
the  daughters  of  Midian,  and  see  if  you  do  not  join 
yourself  to  Baalpeor,  and  eat  the  offerings  of  the  dead ! 

And  with  this  encouraging  sentence,  the  two  parted 
for  the  night. 


ii 


162 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  YIII. 

THE  EAST  WIND. 

As  Hypatia  went  forth  the  next  morning’,  in  all  her 
glory,  with  a crowd  of  philosophers  and  philosophas- 
ters,  students,  and  fine  gentlemen,  following  her  in 
reverent  admiration  across  the  street  to  her  lecture- 
room,  a ragged  beggar-man,  accompanied  by  a huge 
and  villainous-looking  dog,  planted  himself  right  before 
her,  and  extending  a dirty  hand,  whined  for  an  alms. 

Hypatia,  whose  refined  taste  could  never  endure  the 
sight,  much  less  the  contact,  of  anything  squalid  and 
degraded,  recoiled  a little,  and  bade  the  attendant 
slave  get  rid  of  the  man  with  a coin.  Some  of  the 
3Tounger  gentlemen,  however,  considered  themselves 
adepts  in  that  noble  art  of  “ upsetting  then  in  vogue 
in  the  African  universities,  to  which  we  all  have  reason 
enough  to  be  thankful,  seeing  that  it  drove  Saint 
Augustine  from  Carthage  to  Rome;  and  they,  in  com- 
pliance with  the  usual  fashion  of  tormenting  any  sim- 
ple creature  who  came  in  their  way  by  mystification 
and  insult,  commenced  a series  of  personal  witticisms, 
which  the  beggar  bore  stoically  enough.  The  coin 
was  offered  him,  but  he  blandly  put  aside  the  hand  of 
the  giver,  and  keeping  his  place  on  the  pavement, 
seemed  inclined  to  dispute  Hypatia’s  further  passage. 

"What  do  you  want?  Send  the  wretch  and  his 
frightful  dog  away,  gentlemen ! ” said  the  poor  philoso- 
pher, in  some  trepidation. 


HYPATIA 


163 


“I  know  that  dog1/’  said  one  of  them;  “it  is  Aben- 
Ezra’s.  Where  did  you  find  it  before  it  was  lost,  you 
rascal ? ” 

“ Where  your  mother  found  you  when  she  palmed 
you  off  upon  her  goodman,  my  child — in  the  slave- 
market.  Fair  sibyl,  have  you  already  forgotten  your 
humblest  pupil,  as  these  young  dogs  have,  who  are 
already  trying  to  upset  their  master  and  instructor  in 
the  angelic  science  of  bullying  ? ” 

And  the  beggar,  lifting  his  broad  straw  hat,  dis- 
closed the  features  of  Raphael  Aben-Ezra.  Hypatia 
recoiled  with  a shriek  of  surprise. 

“Ah ! you  are  astonished.  At  what,  I pray  ? ” 

“ To  see  you,  sir,  thus ! ” 

“Why,  then  ? You  have  been  preaching  to  us  all  a 
long  time  the  glory  of  abstraction  from  the  allurement 
of  sense.  It  augurs  ill,  surely,  for  your  estimate  either 
of  your  pupils  or  of  your  own  eloquence,  if  you  are  so 
struck  with  consternation  because  one  of  them  has 
actually  at  last  obeyed  you.” 

“ What  is  the  meaning  of  this  masquerade,  most  ex- 
cellent sir  ? ” asked  Hypatia  and  a dozen  voices  beside. 

“Ask  Cyril.  I am  on  my  way  to  Italy,  in  the  char- 
acter of  the  Hew  Diogenes,  to  look,  like  him,  for  a 
man.  When  I have  found  one,  I shall  feel  great  plea- 
sure in  returning  to  acquaint  you  with  the  amazing 
news.  Farewell!  I wished  to  look  once  more  at  a cer- 
tain countenance,  though  I have  turned,  as  you  see. 
Cynic;  and  intend  henceforth  to  attend  no  teacher  but 
my  dog,  who  will  luckily  charge  no  fees  for  instruc- 
tion; if  she  did,  I must  go  untaught,  for  my  ancestral 
wealth  made  itself  wings  yesterday  morning.  You 
are  aware,  doubtless,  of  the  Plebiscitum  against  the 
Jews,  which  was  carried  into  effect  under  the  auspices 
of  a certain  holy  tribune  of  the  people  ? ” 


164 


HYPATIA. 


“ Infamous ! " 

“ And  dangerous,  my  dear  lady.  Success  is  inspirit- 
ing . . . and  Theon’s  house  is  quite  as  easily  sacked  as 
the  Jews’  quarter.  . . . Beware.” 

“ Come,  come,  Aben-Ezra,”  cried  the  young  men; 
“you  are  far  too  good  company  for  us  bo  lose  you  for 
that  rascally  patriarch’s  fancy.  We  will  make  a sub- 
scription for  you,  eh  ? And  you  shall  live  with  each  of 
us,  month  and  month  about.  We  shall  quite  lose  the 
trick  of  joking  without  you.” 

“ Thank  you,  gentlemen.  But  really  you  have  been 
my  butts  far  too  long  for  me  to  think  of  becoming 
yours.  Madam,  one  word  in  private  before  I go.” 

Hypatia  leant  forward,  and  speaking  in  Syriac, 
whispered  hurriedly 

“ Oh,  stay,  sir,  I beseech  you!  You  are  the  wisest 
of  my  pupils — perhaps  my  only  true  pupil.  . . . My 
father  will  find  some  concealment  for  you  from  these 
wretches;  and  if  you  need  money,  remember,  he  is 
your  debtor.  We  have  never  repaid  you  the  gold 
which ” 

“ Fairest  Muse,  that  was  but  my  entrance-fee  to 
Parnassus.  It  is  I who  am  in  your  debt;  and  I have 
brought  my  arrears,  in  the  form  of  this  opal  ring.  As 
for  shelter  near  you,”  he  went  on,  lowering  his  voice, 
and  speaking  like  her,  in  Syriac — “ Hypatia,  the  Gen- 
tile, is  far  too  lovely  for  the  peace  of  mind  of  Raphael 
the  Jew.”  And  he  drew  from  his  finger  Miriam’s 
ring,  and  offered  it. 

“ Impossible  ! ” said  Hypatia,  blushing  scarlet ; “ I 
cannot  accept  it.” 

“ I beseech  you.  It  is  the  last  earthly  burden  I 
have,  except  this  snail’s  prison  of  flesh  ana  blood.  My 
dagger  will  open  a crack  through  that  when  it 
becomes  intolerable.  But  as  I do  not  intend  to  leave 


HYPATIA. 


165 


my  shell,  if  I can  help  it,  except  just  when  and  how  I 
choose;  and  as,  if  I take  this  ring  with  me,  some  of 
Heraclian’s  Circumcellions  will  assuredly  knock  my 
brains  out  for  the  sake  of  it — I must  entreat.” 

“ Never  ! Can  you  not  sell  the  ring,  and  escape  to 
Synesius  ? He  will  give  you  shelter.” 

“ The  hospitable  hurricane  ! Shelter,  yes;  hut  rest, 
none.  As  soon  pitch  my  tent  in  the  crater  of  HCtna. 
Why,  he  will  he  trying  day  and  night  to  convert  me 
to  that  eclectic  farrago  of  his,  which  he  calls  philoso- 
phic Christianity.  Well,  if  you  do  not  take  the  ring, 
it  is  soon  disposed  of.  We  Easterns  know  how  to  he 
magnificent,  and  vanish  as  the  lords  of  the  world 
ought.” 

And  he  turned  to  the  philosophic  crowd. 

“Here,  gentlemen  of  Alexandria  ! Does  any  gay 
youth  wish  to  pay  his  debts  once  and  for  al!  ? Behold 
the  rainbow  of  Solomon,  an  opal  such  as  Alexandria 
never  saw  before,  which  would  buy  any  one  of  you,  and 
his  Macedonian  papa,  and  Macedonian  mamma,  and 
his  Macedonian  sisters,  and  horses,  and  parrots,  and 
peacocks,  twice  over,  in  any  slave  market  in  the  world. 
Any  gentleman  who  wishes  to  possess  a jewel  worth 
ten  thousand  gold  pieces,  will  only  need  to  pick  it  out 
of  the  gutter  into  which  I throw  it.  Scramble  for  it, 
you  young  Phsedrias  and  Pamphili  ! There  are  Laides 
and  Thaides  enough  about  who  will  help  you  to  spend 
it.” 

And  raising  the  jewel  on  high  he  was  in  the  act  of 
tossing  it  into  the  street,  when  his  arm  was  seized 
from  behind,  and  the  ring  snatched  from  his  hand. 
He  turned,  fiercely  enough,  and  saw  behind  him,  her 
eyes  flashing  fury  and  contempt,  old  Miriam. 

Bran  sprang  at  the  old  woman’s  throat  in  an 
instant ; but  recoiled  again  before  the  glare  of  her  eye. 


166 


HYPATIA. 


Raphael  called  the  dog  off  and  turning  quietly  to  the 
disappointed  spectators, — 

“It  is  all  right,  my  luckless  friends.  You  must 
raise  money  for  yourselves,  after  all:  which,  since  the 
departure  of  my  nation,  will  he  a somewhat  more  diffi- 
cult matter  than  ever.  The  over-ruling  destinies, 
whom,  as  you  all  know  so  well  when  you  are  getting 
tipsy,  not  even  philosophers  can  resist,  have  restored 
the  Rainbow  of  Solomon  to  its  original  possessor. 
Farewell,  Queen  of  Philosophy ! When  I find  the  man, 
you  shall  hear  of  it.  Mother,  I am  coming  with  you 
for  a friendly  word  before  we  part,  though,”  he  went 
on  laughing  as  the  two  walked  away  together,  “it 
was  a scurvy  thrick  of  you  to  balk  one  of  The  Nation 
of  the  exquisite  pleasure  of  seeing  those  heathen  dogs 
scrambling  in  the  gutter  for  his  bounty. 

Hypatia  went  on  to  the  museum,  utterly  bewildered 
by  this  strange  meeting,  and  its  still  stranger  end. 
She  took  care,  nevertheless,  to  betray  no  sign  of  her 
deep  interest  till  she  found  herself  alone  in  her  little 
waiting-room  adjoining  the  lecture-hall;  and  there, 
throwing  herself  into  a chair,  she  sat  and  thought,  till 
she  found,  to  her  surprise  and  anger,  the  tears  trick- 
ling down  her  cheeks.  Not  that  her  bosom  held  one 
spark  of  affection  for  Raphael.  If  there  had  ever  been 
any  danger  of  that,  the  wily  Jew  had  himself  taken 
care  to  ward  it  off,  by  the  sneering  and  frivolous  tone 
with  which  he  quashed  every  approach  to  deep  feeling, 
either  in  himself  or  in  others.  As  for  his  compliments 
to  her  beauty,  she  was  far  too  much  accustomed  to 
such  to  be  either  pleased  or  displeased  by  them.  But 
she  felt,  as  she  said,  that  she  had  lost  perhaps  her 
only  true  pupil;  and  more — perhaps  her  only  true 
master.  For  she  saw  clearly  enough,  that  under  that 
Silenus*  mask  was  hidden  a nature  capable  of — per- 


HYPATIA. 


167 


haps  more  than  she  dared  think  of.  She  had  always 
felt  him  her  superior  in  practical  cunning;  and  that 
morning  had  proved  to  her  what  she  had  long  sus- 
pected, that  he  was  possibly  also  her  superior  in  that 
moral  earnestness  and  strength  of  will  for  which  she 
looked  in  vain  among  the  enerva  ted  Greeks  who  sur- 
rounded her.  And  even  in  those  matters  in  which  he 
professed  himself  her  pupil,  she  had  long  been  alter- 
nately delighted  by  finding  that  he  alone,  of  all  her 
school,  seemed  thoroughly  and  instinctively  to  com- 
prehend her  every  word,  and  chilled  by  the  disagreea- 
ble suspicion  that  he  was  only  playing  with  her,  and 
her  mathematics  and  geometry,  and  metaphysic  and 
dialect,  like  a fencer  practising  with  foils,  while  he  re- 
served his  real  strength  for  some  object  more  worthy 
of  him.  More  than  once  some  paradox  or  question  of 
his  had  shaken  her  neatest  systems  into  a thousand 
cracks,  and  opened  up  ugly  depths  of  doubt,  even  on 
the  most  seemingly  palpable  certainties;  or  some  half- 
jesting  allusion  to  those  Hebrew  Scriptures,  the  quan- 
tity and  quality  of  his  faith  in  which  he  would  never 
confess,  made  her  indignant  at  the  notion  that  he  con- 
sidered himself  in  possession  of  a reserve  ground  of 
knowledge,  deeper  and  surer  than  her  own,  in  which  he 
did  not  deign  to  allow  her  to  share. 

And  yet  she  was  irresistibly  attracted  to  him.  That 
deliberate  and  consistent  luxury  of  his,  from  which 
she  shrank,  he  had  always  boasted  that  he  was  able  to 
put  on  and  take  off  at  will  like  a garment;  and  now  he 
seemed  to  have  proved  his  words ; to  be  a worthy  rival 
of  the  great  stoics  of  old  time.  Could  Zeno  himself 
have  asked  more  from  frail  humanity  ? Moreover, 
Raphael  had  been  of  infinite  practical  use  to  her.  He 
worked  out,  unasked,  her  mathematical  problems : he 
looked  out  authorities,  kept  her  pupils  in  order  by  his 


168 


HYPATIA. 


bitter  tongue,  and  drew  fresh  students  to  her  lectures 
by  the  attractions  of  his  wit,  his  arguments,  and  last, 
but  not  least,  his  unrivalled  cook  and  cellar.  Above 
all,  he  acted  the  part  of  a fierce  and  valiant  watch- 
dog on  her  behalf,  against  the  knots  of  clownish  and 
often  brutal  sophists,  the  wrecks  of  the  old  Cynic, 
Stoic,  and  Academic  schools,  who,  with  venom  increas- 
ing, after  the  wont  of  parties,  with  their  decrepitude, 
assailed  the  beautifully  bespangled  card-castle  of  Neo- 
Platonism,  as  an  empty  medley  of  all  Greek  philoso- 
phies with  all  Eastern  superstitions.  All  such  Philis- 
tines had  as  yet  dreaded  the  pen  and  tongue  of 
Raphael,  even  more  than  those  of  the  chivalrous  Bishop 
of  Cyrene,  though  he  certainly,  to  judge  from  certain 
of  his  letters,  hated  them  as  much  as  he  could  hate 
any  human  being;  which  was  after  all  not  very  bit- 
terly. 

But  the  visits  of  Synesius  were  few  and  far  between : 
Carthage  and  Alexandria,  and  the  labor  of  his  diocese, 
and  worse  than  all,  the  growing  difference  in  purpose 
between  him  and  his  beautiful  teacher,  made  his  pro- 
tection all  but  valueless.  And  now  Aben-Ezra  was 
gone  too,  and  with  him  were  gone  a thousand  plans 
and  hopes.  To  have  converted  him  at  last  to  a philo- 
sophic faith  in  the  old  gods!  To  have  made  him  her 
instrument  for  turning  back  the  stream  of  human 
error!  ....  How  often  had  that  dream  crossed  her! 
And  now,  who  would  take  his  place  ? Athanasius  ? 
Synesius  in  his  good-nature  might  dignify  him  with 
the  name  of  brother,  but  to  her  he  was  a powerless 
pedant,  destined  to  die  without  having  wrought  any 
deliverance  on  the  earth,  as  indeed  the  event  proved. 
Piutarch  of  Athens  ? He  was  superannuated.  Sy- 
rianus  ? A mere  logician,  twisting  Aristotle  to  mean 
what  she  knew — and  he  ought  to  have  known — Aris- 


HYPATIA. 


169 


totle  never  meant.  Her  father  ? A man  of  triangles 
and  conic  sections.  How  paltry  they  all  looked  by 
the  side  of  the  unfathomable  Jew!  Spinners  of 
charming  cobwebs.  . . . But  would  the  flies  conde- 
scend to  be  caught  in  them ! Builders  of  pretty 
houses.  ...  If  people  would  but  enter  and  live  in 
them!  Preachers  of  superfine  morality  . . . which 
their  admiring  pupils  never  dreamed  of  practising. 
Without  her,  she  well  knew,  philosophy  must  die  in 
Alexandria.  And  was  it  her  wisdom — or  other  and 
more  earthly  charms  of  hers — which  enabled  her  to 
keep  it  alive  ? Sickening  thought ! Oh,  that  she  were 
ugly,  only  to  test  the  power  of  her  doctrines. 

Ho!  The  odds  were  fearful  enough  alread3^;  she 
would  be  glad  of  any  help,  however  earthly  and  carnal. 
But  was  not  the  work  hopeless?  What  she  wanted 
was  men  who  could  act  while  she  thought.  And  those 
were  just  the  men  whom  she  would  find  nowhere  but 
— she  knew  it  too  well — in  the  hated  Christian  priest- 
hood. And  then  that  fearful  Iphigenia  sacrifice 
loomed  in  the  distance  as  inevitable.  The  only  hope 
of  philosophy  was  in  her  despair. 

* * * * * * 

She  dashed  away  the  tears,  and  proudly  entered  the 
lecture-hall,  and  ascended  the  tribune  like  a goddess, 
amid  the  shouts  of  her  audience.  . . . What  did  she 
care  for  them  ? Would  they  do  what  she  told  them  ? 
She  was  half  through  her  lecture  before  she  could 
recollect  herself,  and  banish  from  her  mind  the  thought 
of  Raphael.  And  at  that  point  we  will  take  the  lec- 
ture up. 

****** 

“ Truth ! Where  is  truth  but  in  the  soul  itself  ? Facts, 
objects,  are  but  phantoms  matter-woven  — ghosts 
of  this  earthly  night,  at  which  the  soul,  sleeping  here 


170 


HYPATIA. 


in  the  mire  and  clay  of  matter,  shudders  and  names 
here  its  own  vague  tremors,  sense  and  perception.  Yet, 
even  as  our  nightly  dreams  stir  in  us  the  suspicion  of 
mysterious  and  immaterial  presences,  unfettered  by 
the  bonds  of  time  and  space,  so  do  these  waking 
dreams  which  we  call  sight  and  sound.  They  are  di- 
vine messengers,  whom  Zeus,  pitying  his  children  even 
when  he  pent  them  in  this  prison-house  of  flesh,  ap- 
pointed to  arouse  in  them  dim  recollections  of  that 
real  world  of  souls  whence  they  came.  Awakened 
once  to  them;  seeing,  through  the  veil  of  sense  and 
fact,  the  spiritual  truth  of  which  they  are  but  the  ac- 
cidental garment,  concealing  the  very  thing  which 
they  make  palpable,  the  philosopher  may  neglect  the 
fact  for  the  doctrine,  the  shell  for  the  kernel,  the  body 
for  the  soul,  of  which  it  is  but  the  symbol  and  the 
vehicle.  What  matter,  then,  to  the  philosopher 
whether  these  names  of  men,  Hector  or  Priam,  Helen 
or  Achilles,  were  ever  visible  as  phantoms  of  flesh  and 
blood  before  the  eyes  of  men  ? What  matter  whether 
they  spoke  or  thought  as  he  of  Scios  says  they  did  ? 
What  matter,  even,  whether  he  himself  ever  had 
earthly  life  ? The  book  is  here — the  word  which  men 
call  his.  Let  the  thoughts  thereof  have  been  at  first 
whose  they  may,  now  they  are  mine.  I have  taken 
them  to  myself,  and  thought  them  to  myself,  and 
made  them  parts  of  my  own  soul.  Nay,  they  were 
and  ever  will  be  parts  of  me;  for  they,  even  as  the 
poet  was,  even  as  I am,  are  but  a part  of  the  univer- 
sal soul.  What  matter,  then,  what  myths  grow  up 
around  those  mighty  thoughts  of  ancient  seers  ? Let 
others  try  to  reconcile  the  Cyclic  fragments,  or  vindi- 
cate the  Catalogue  of  ships.  What  has  the  philoso- 
pher lost,  though  the  former  were  proved  to  be  con- 
tradictory and  the  latter  interpolated  ? The  thoughts 


HYPATIA. 


171 


are  there,  and  ours.  Let  us  open  our  hearts  lovingly 
to  receive  them,  from  whencesoever  they  may  have 
come.  As  in  men,  as  in  hooks,  the  soul  is  all  with 
which  our  souls  must  deal;  and  the  soul  of  the  book 
is  whatsoever  beautiful  and  true  and  noble  we  can 
find  in  it.  It  matters  not  to  us  whether  the  poet  was 
altogether  conscious  of  the  meanings  which  we  can 
find  in  him.  Consciously  or  unconsciously  to  him,  the 
meanings  must  be  there;  for  were  they  not  there  to 
be  seen,  how  could  we  see  them  ? There  are  those 
among  the  uninitiate  vulgar — and  those,  too,  who 
carry  under  the  philosophic  cloak  hearts  still  uniniti- 
ate— who  revile  such  interpretations  as  merely  the  so- 
phistic and  arbitrary  sports  of  fancy.  It  lies  with 
them  to  show  what  Homer  meant,  if  our  spiritual 
meanings  be  absurd ; to  tell  the  world  wdiy  Homer  is 
admirable,  if  that  for  which  we  hold  him  up  to  admi- 
ration does  not  exist  in  him.  Will  they  say  that  the 
honor  which  he  has  enjoyed  for  ages  was  inspired  by 
that  which  seems  to  be  his  first  and  literal  meaning  ? 
and  more,  will  they  venture  to  impute  that  literal 
meaning  to  him  ? Can  they  suppose  that  the  divine 
soul  of  Homer  could  degrade  itself  to  write  of  actual 
and  physical  f eastings,  and  nuptials,  and  dances,  act- 
ual nightly  thefts  of  horses,  actual  fidelity  of  dogs  and 
swineherds,  actual  intermarriage  between  deities  and 
men,  or  that  it  is  this  seeming  vulgarity  which  has 
won  for  him  from  the  wisest  of  every  age  the  title  of 
the  father  of  poetry  ? Degrading  thought ! fit  only  for 
the  coarse  and  sense-bound  tribe  who  can  appreciate 
nothing  but  what  is  palpable  to  sense  and  sight ! As 
soon  believe  the  Christian  Scriptures,  when  they  tell 
us  of  a deity  who  has  hand  and  feet,  eyes  and  ears, 
who  condescends  to  command  the  patterns  of  furni- 
ture and  culinary  utensils,  and  is  made  perfect  by  be- 


172 


HYPATIA. 


mg'  born— disgusting  thought — as  the  son  of  a village 
maiden,  and  defiling  himself  with  the  wants  and  sor- 
rows of  the  lowest  slaves!” 

“ It  is  false!  blasphemous!  The  Scriptures  cannot 
lie ! ” cried  a voice  from  the  further  end  of  the  room. 

It  was  Philammon’s.  He  had  been  listening  to  the 
whole  lecture,  and  yet  not  so  much  listening  as  watch- 
ing, in  bewilderment,  the  beaut}^  of  the  speaker,  the 
grace  of  her  action,  the  melody  of  her  voice,  and  last, 
but  not  least,  the  maze  of  her  rhetoric,  as  it  glittered 
before  his  mind’s  eye  like  a cobweb  diamonded  with  dew. 
A sea  of  new  thoughts  and  questions,  if  not  of  doubts, 
came  rushing  in  at  every  sentence  on  his  acute  Greek 
intellect,  all  the  more  plentifully  and  irresistibly  be- 
cause his  speculative  faculty  was  as  yet  altogether 
waste  and  empty,  undefended  by  an}T  scientific  culture 
from  the  inrushing  flood.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life 
he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  root-questions 
of  all  thought — “ What  am  I,  and  where?”  “ What 
can  I know  ? ” And  in  the  half-terrified  struggle  with 
them,  he  had  all  but  forgotten  the  purpose  for  which 
he  entered  the  lecture-hall.  He  felt  that  he  must 
break  the  spell.  Was  she  not  a heathen  and  a false 
prophetess  ?.  Here  was  something  tangible  to  attack; 
and  half  in  indignation  at  the  blasphemy,  half  in  order 
to  force  himself  into  action,  he  had  sprung  up  and 
spoke. 

A yell  rose.  “ Turn  the  monk  out ! ” “ Throw  the 

rustic  through  the  window!  ” cried  a dozen  young  gen- 
tlemen. Several  of  the  most  valiant  began  to  scram- 
ble over  the  benches  up  to  him;  and  Philammon  was 
congratulating  himself  on  the  near  approach  of  a glori- 
ous martyrdom,  when  Hypatia’s  voice,  calm  and  sil- 
very, stifled  the  tumult  in  a moment. 

“ Let  the  youth  listen,  gentlemen.  He  is  but  a monk 


It  is  false  ! blasphemous  ! The  Scriptures  cannot  lie  ! 


HYPATIA. 


175 


and  a plebeian  and  knows  no  better;  he  has  been 
taught  thus.  Let  him  sit  here  quietly,  and  perhaps 
we  may  be  able  to  teach  him  otherwise.” 

And  without  interrupting,  even  by  a change  of  tone, 
the  thread  of  her  discourse,  she  continued, — 

“ Listen,  then,  to  a passage  from  the  sixth  book  of 
the  c Iliad/  in  which  last  night  I seemed  to  see  glimpses 
of  some  mighty  mystery.  Y ou  know  it  well ; yet  I will 
read  it  to  you;  the  very  sound  and  pomp  of  that 
great  verse  may  tune  our  souls  to  a fit  key  for  the  re- 
ception of  lofty  wisdom.  For  well  said  Abamnon  the 
Teacher,  that * the  soul  consisted  first  of  harmony  and 
rhythm,  and  ere  it  gave  itself  to  the  body,  had  lis- 
tened to  the  divine  harmony/  Therefore  it  is  that 
when,  after  having  come  into  a body,  it  hears  such 
melodies  as  most  preserve  the  divine  footstep  of  har- 
mony, it  embraces  such,  and  recollects  from  them  that 
divine  harmony,  and  is  impelled  to  it,  and  finds  its 
home  in  it,  and  shares  of  it  as  much  as  it  can  share.” 
And  therewith  fell  on  Philammon’s  ear,  for  the  first 
time,  the  mighty  thunder-roll  of  Homer’s  verse: — 

So  spoke  the  stewardess : but  Hector  rushed 

From  the  house,  the  same  way  back,  down  stately  streets, 

Through  the  broad  city,  to  the  Scaian  gates, 

Whereby  he  must  go  forth  toward  the  plain. 

There  running  toward  him  came  Andromache, 

His  ample-dowered  wife,  Eetion’s  child — 

Eetion  the  great-hearted,  he  who  dwelt 
In  Thebe  under  Placos,  and  the  woods 
Of  Placos,  ruling  over  Kilic  men. 

His  daughter  wedded  Hector  brazen-helmed, 

And  met  him  then ; and  with  her  came  a maid, 

Who  bore  in  arms  a playful-hearted  babe, 

An  infant  still,  akin  to  some  fair  star, 

Only  and  well-loved  child  of  Hector’s  house, 

Whom  he  had  named  Scamandrios,  but  the  rest 
Astyanax,  because  his  sire  alone 


176 


HYPATIA. 


Upheld  the  weal  of  Ilion  the  holy. 

He  smiled  in  silence,  looking  on  his  child ; 

But  she  stood  close  to  him,  with  many  tears; 

And  hung  upon  his  hand,  and  spoke,  and  called  him. 

“ My  hero,  thy  great  heart  will  wear  thee  out ; 

Thou  pitiest  not  thine  infant  child,  nor  me 
The  hapless,  soon  to  be  thy  widow, 

The  Greeks  will  slay  thee,  falling  one  and  all 
Upon  thee;  but  to  me  were  sweeter  far, 

Having  lost  thee,  to  die ; no  cheer  to  me 

Will  come  thenceforth,  if  thou  shouldst  meet  thy  fate, 

Woes  only:  mother  have  I none,  nor  sire. 

For  that  my  sire  divine  Achilles  slew, 

And  wasted  utterly  the  pleasant  homes 
Of  Kilic  folk  in  Thebt5  lofty- walled, 

And  slew  Eetion  with  the  sword ! yet  spared 
To  strip  the  dead:  awe  kept  his  soul  from  that. 
Therefore  he  burnt  him  in  his  graven  arms, 

And  heaped  a mound  above  him ; and  around 
The  damsels  of  the  iEgis-holding  Zeus, 

The  nymphs  who  haunt  the  upland,  planted  elms. 
And  seven  brothers  bred  with  me  in  the  halls, 

All  in  one  day  went  down  to  Hades  there ; 

For  all  of  them  swift-foot  Achilles  slew 
Beside  the  lazy  kine  and  snow-white  sheep. 

And  her,  my  mother,  who  of  late  was  queen 
Beneath  the  woods  of  Placos,  he  brought  here 
Among  his  other  spoils  ; yet  set  her  free 
Again,  receiving  ransom  rich  and  great. 

But  Artemis,  whose  bow  is  all  her  joy, 

Smote  her  to  death  within  her  father’s  halls. 

H ector ! so  thou  art  father  to  me  now, 

Mother,  and  brother,  and  husband  fair  and  strong ! 
Oh,  come  now,  pity  me,  and  stay  thou  here 
Upon  the  tower,  nor  make  thy  child  an  orphan 
And  me  thy  wife  a widow ; range  the  men 
Here  by  the  fig-tree,  where  the  city  lies 
Lowest,  and  where  the  wall  can  well  be  scaled ; 

For  here  three  times  the  best  have  tried  the  assault 
Round  either  Ajax,  and  Idomeneus, 

And  round  the  Atridai  both,  and  Tydeus’  son 


HYPATIA. 


177 


Whether  some  cunning  seer  taught  them  craft 
Or  their  own  spirit  stirred  and  drove  them  on.” 

Then  spoke  tall  Hector,  with  the  glancing  helm : 

“ All  this  I too  have  watched,  my  wife;  yet  much 

I hold  in  dread  the  scorn  of  Trojan  men 

And  Trojan  women  with  their  trailing  shawls, 

If,  like  a coward,  I should  skulk  from  war. 

Beside,  I have  no  lust  to  stay ; I have  learnt 
Aye  to  be  bold,  and  lead  the  van  of  fight, 

To  win  my  father,  and  myself,  a name. 

For  well  I know,  at  heart  and  in  my  thought, 

The  day  will  come  when  Ilios  the  holy 
Shall  lie  in  heaps,  and  Priam,  and  the  folk 
Of  ashen-speared  Priam,  perish  all. 

But  yet  no  woe  to  come  to  Trojan  men, 

Nor  even  to  Hecabe,  nor  Priam  king, 

Nor  to  my  brothers,  who  shall  roll  in  dust, 

Many  and  fair,  beneath  the  strokes  of  foes, 

So  moves  me,  as  doth  thine,  when  thou  shalt  go 
Weeping,  led  off  by  some  brass-harnessed  Greek 
Robbed  of  the  daylight  of  thy  liberty, 

To  weave  in  Argos  at  another’s  loom, 

Or  bear  the  water  of  Messeis  home, 

Or  Hypereia,  with  unseemly  toils, 

While  heavy  doom  constrains  thee,  and  perchance 
The  folk  may  say,  who  see  thy  tears  run  down, 

‘ This  was  the  wife  of  Hector,  best  in  fight 
At  Ilium,  of  horse-taming  Trojan  men.’ 

So  will  they  say  perchance ; while  unto  thee 
Now  grief  will  come,  for  such  a husband’s  loss. 

Who  might  have  warded  off  the  day  of  thrall. 

But  may  the  soil  be  heaped  above  my  corpse 
Before  I hear  thy  shriek  and  see  thy  shame ! ” 

He  spoke,  and  stretched  his  arms  to  take  the  child ; 
But  back  the  child  upon  his  nurse’s  breast 
Shrank  crying,  frightened  at  his  father’s  looks, 
Fearing  the  brass  and  crest  of  horse’s  hair 
Which  waved  above  the  helmet  terribly. 

Then  out  that  father  and  dear  mother  laughed, 

And  glorious  Hector  took  the  helmet  off, 

And  laid  it  gleaming  on  the  ground,  and  kissed 


12 


178 


HYPATIA. 


His  darling  child,  and  danced  him  in  his  arms ; 

And  spoke  in  prayer  to  Zeus,  and  all  the  gods : 

“ Zeu,  and  ye  other  gods,  oh  grant  that  this 
My  child,  like  me,  may  grow  the  champion  here 
As  good  in  strength,  and  rule  with  might  in  Troy, 

That  men  may  say,  ‘ The  hoy  is  better  far 
Than  was  his  sire,’  when  he  returns  from  war, 

Bearing  a gory  harness,  having  slain 
A foeman,  and  his  mother’s  heart  rejoice.” 

Thus  saying,  on  the  hands  of  his  dear  wife 
He  laid  the  child ; and  she  received  him  back 
In  fragrant  bosom,  smiling  through  her  tears.* 

“ Such  is  the  myth.  Do  you  fancy  that  in  it  Homer 
meant  to  hand  down  to  the  admiration  of  ages  such 
earthly  commonplaces  as  a mother’s  brute  affection 
and  the  terrors  of  an  infant?  Surely  the  deeper  in- 
sight of  the  philosopher  may  he  allowed,  without  the 
approach  of  fancifulness,  to  see  in  it  the  adumbration 
of  some  deeper  mystery. 

“The  elect  soul,  for  instance — is  not  its  name  As- 
tyanax,  king  of  the  city;  by  the  fact  of  its  ethereal 
parentage,  the  leader  and  lord  of  all  around  it,  though 
it  knows  it  not  ? A child  as  yet,  it  lies  upon  the  fra- 
grant bosom  of  its  mother  Nature,  the  nurse  and  yet 
the  enemy  of  man — Andromache,  as  the  poet  well 
names  her,  because  she  fights  with  that  being,  when 


* The  above  lines  are  not  meant  as  a “translation,”  but  as 
an  humble  attempt  to  give  the  literal  sense  in  some  sort  of 
metre.  It  would  be  an  act  of  arrogance  even  to  aim  at  suc- 
cess where  Pope  and  Chapman  failed.  It  is  simply,  I believe, 
impossible  to  render  Homer  into  English  verse ; because,  for 
one  reason  among  many,  it  is  impossible  to  preserve  the  pomp 
of  sound  which  invests  with  grandeur  his  most  common  words. 
How  can  any  skill  represent  the  rhythm  of  Homeric  Greek  in  a 
language  which — to  take  the  first  verse  which  comes  to  hand 
— transforms  “boos  megaloio  booien,”  into  “great  ox’s  hide”  ? 


HYPATIA. 


179 


grown  to  man’s  estate,  whom  as  a child  she  nourished. 
Fair  is  she,  yet  unwise;  pampering  us,  after  the  fash- 
ion of  mothers,  with  weak  indulgences,  fearing  to  send 
us  forth  into  the  great  realities  of  speculation,  there 
to  forget  her  in  her  pursuit  of  glory,  she  would  have 
us  while  away  our  prime  within  the  harem,  and  play 
forever  round  her  knees.  And  has  not  the  elect  soul 
a father,  too,  whom  it  knows  not  ? Hector,  he  who  is 
without — unconfined,  unconditioned  by  nature,  yet  its 
husband  ? the  all  pervading  plastic  Soul,  informing, 
organizing,  whom  men  call  Zeus  the  lawgiver,  ACther 
the  fire,  Osiris  the  lifegiver;  whom  here  the  poet  has 
set  forth  as  the  defender  of  the  mystic  city,  the  de- 
fender of  harmony,  and  order,  and  beauty  throughout 
the  universe  ? Apart  sits  his  great  father— Priam, 
the  first  of  existences,  father  of  many  sons,  the  Abso- 
lute Reason  unseen,  tremendous,  immovable,  in  distant 
glory,  yet  himself  amenable  to  that  abysmal  unity 
which  Homer  calls  Fate,  the  source  of  all  which  is, 
yet  in  Itself  Nothing,  without  predicate,  unnamable. 

"From  It  and  for  It  the  universal  Soul  thrills 
through  the  whole  Creation,  doing  the  behests  of  that 
Reason  from  which  it  overflowed,  unwillingly,  into  the 
storm  and  crowd  of  material  appearances;  warring 
with  the  brute  forces  of  gross  matter,  crushing  all 
which  is  foul  and  dissonant  to  itself,  and  clasping  to 
its  bosom  the  beautiful  and  all  wherein  it  discovers  its 
own  reflex ; impressing  on  it  its  signature,  reproducing 
from  it  its  own  likeness,  whether  star  or  daemon,  or 
soul  of  the  elect — and  yet,  as  the  poet  hints  in  anthro- 
morphic  language,  haunted  all  the  while  by  a sadness 
— weighed  down  amid  all  its  labors  by  the  sense  of  a 
fate — by  the  thought  of  that  First  One  from  whom 
the  Soul  is  originally  descended ; from  whom  it,  and 
its  Father  the  Reason  before  it  parted  themselves 


180 


HYPATIA. 


when  they  dared  to  think  and  act,  and  assert  their 
own  free  will. 

“ And  in  the  mean  while,  alas  ! Hector,  the  father, 
fights  around,  while  his  children  sleep  and  feed,  and  he 
is  away  in  the  wars,  and  they  know  him  not — know 
not  that  they,  the  individuals,  are  but  parts  of  him,  the 
universal.  And  yet  at  moments — oh!  thrice  blessed 
they  whose  celestial  parentage  has  made  such  mo- 
ments part  of  their  appointed  destiny — at  moments 
flashes  on  the  human  child  the  intuition  of  the  unut- 
terable secret.  In  the  spangled  glory  of  the  summer- 
night — in  the  roar  of  the  Nile-flood,  sweeping  down 
fertility  in  every  wave — in  the  awful  depths  of  the 
temple-shrine — in  the  wild  melodies  of  old  Orphic 
singers,  or  before  the  images  of  those  gods  of  whose 
perfect  beauty  the  divine  theosophists  of  Greece 
caught  a fleeting  shadow,  and  with  the  sudden  might 
of  artistic  ecstasy  smote  it,  as  hy  an  enchanter’s  wand, 
into  an  eternal  sleep  of  snowy  stone — in  these  there 
flashes  on  the  inner  eye  a vision  beautiful  and  terrible, 
of  a force,  an  energy,  a soul,  an  idea,  one  and  yet  mil- 
lion-fold, rushing  through  all  created  things,  like  a 
wind  across  a lyre,  thrilling  the  strings  into  celestial 
harmony — one  life-blood  through  the  million  veins  of 
the  universe,  from  one  great  unseen  heart,  whose  thun- 
derous pulses  the  mind  hears  far  away,  beating  for- 
ever in  the  abysmal  solitude,  beyond  the  heavens  and 
the  galaxies,  beyond  the  spaces  and  the  times,  them- 
selves but  the  veins  and  runnels  from  its  all  teeming 
sea. 

“ Happy,  thrice  happy ! they  who  once  have  dared, 
even  though  breathless,  blinded  with  tears  of  awful 
joy,  struck  down  upon  their  knees  in  utter  helpless- 
ness, as  they  feel  themselves  but  dead  leaves  in  the 
wind  which  sweeps  the  universe — happy  they  who 


HYPATIA. 


181 


have  dared  to  gaze,  if  hut  for  an  instant,  on  that  glori- 
ous pageant;  who  have  not,  like  the  young  Astyanax, 
clung  shrieking  to  the  breast  of  mother  JNature,  scared 
by  the  lieaven-wide  flash  of  Hector's  arms,  and  the 
glitter  of  his  rainbow  crest!  Happy,  thrice  happy! 
even  though  their  eyeballs,  blasted  by  excess  of  light, 
wither  to  ashes  in  their  sockets ! W ere  it  not  a noble 
end  to  have  seen  Zeus,  and  die  like  Semele,  burnt  up 
by  his  glory  ? Happy,  thrice  happy ! though  their 
mind  reel  from  the  divine  intoxication,  and  the  hogs  of 
Circe  call  them  henceforth  madmen  and  enthusiasts. 
Enthusiasts  they  are;  for  Deity  is  in  them,  and  they  in 
It.  For  the  time,  this  burden  of  individuality  vanishes, 
and  recognizing  themselves  as  portions  of  the  universal 
Soul,  they  rise  upward,  through  and  beyond  that  rea- 
son from  whence  the  soul  proceeds,  to  the  front  of  all 
— the  ineffable  and  Supreme  One — and  seeing  It,  become 
by  that  act  portions  of  Its  essence.  They  speak  no 
more,  but  It  speaks  in  them,  and  their  whole  being, 
transmuted  by  that  glorious  sunlight  into  whose  rays 
they  have  dared,  like  the  eagle,  to  gaze  without  shrink- 
ing, becomes  an  harmonious  vehicle  for  the  words  of 
Deity,  and  passive  itself,  utters  the  secrets  of  the  im- 
mortal gods.  What  wonder  if  to  the  brute  mass  they 
seem  as  dreamers  ? Be  it  so.  . . . Smile  if  you  will. 
But  ask  me  not  to  teach  you  things  unspeakable,  above 
all  sciences,  which  the  word  battle  of  dialectic,  the  dis- 
cursive struggle  of  reason  can  never  reach,  but  which 
must  be  seen  only,  and  when  seen  confessed  to  be  un- 
speakable. Hence,  thou  disputer  of  the  Academy! 
hence,  thou  sneering  Cynic ! hence,  thou  sense-worship- 
ping Stoic,  who  fanciest  that  the  soul  is  to  derive  her 
knowledge  from  those  material  appearances  which  she 

herself  creates!  . . . hence ; and  yet  no:  stay  and 

sneer  if  you  will.  It  is  but  a little  time — a few  days 


182 


HYPATIA. 


longer  in  this  prison  house  of  our  degradation,  and 
each  thing  shall  return  to  its  own  fountain ; the  blood- 
drop  to  the  abysmal  heart,  and  the  water  to  the  river, 
and  the  river  to  the  shining  sea;  and  the  dewdrop 
which  fell  from  heaven  shall  rise  to  heaven  again, 
shaking  off  the  dust-grains  which  weighed  it  down, 
thawed  from  the  earth  frost  which  chained  it  here  to 
herb  and  sward,  upward  and  upward  ever  through 
stains  and  suns,  through  gods,  and  through  the  parents 
of  the  gods,  purer  and  purer  through  successive  lives, 
till  it  enters  The  Nothing,  which  is  The  All,  and  finds 
its  home  at  last.”  . . . 

And  the  speaker  stopped  suddenly,  her  eyes  glisten- 
ing with  tears,  her  whole  figure  trembling  and  dilating 
with  rapture.  She  remained  for  a moment  motion- 
less, gazing  earnestly  at  her  audience,  as  if  in  hopes  of 
exciting  in  them  some  kindred  glow;  and  then  recov- 
ering herself,  added  in  a more  tender  tone,  not  quite 
unmixed  with  sadness — 

“ Go  now,  my  pupils.  Hypatia  has  no  more  for  you 
to-day.  Go  now,  and  spare  her  at  least — woman  as 
she  is  after  all — the  shame  of  finding  that  she  has 
given  you  too  much,  and  lifted  the  veil  of  Isis  before 
eyes  which  are  not  enough  purified  to  behold  the  glory 
of  the  goddess — Farewell!” 

She  ended:  and  Philammon,  the  moment  that  the 
spell  of  her  voice  was  taken  off  him,  sprung  up,  and 
hurried  out  through  the  corridor  into  the  street.  . . . 

So  beautiful ! So  calm  and  merciful  to  him ! So  en- 
thusiastic toward  all  which  was  noble!  Had  not  she 
too  spoken  of  the  unseen  world,  of  the  hope  of  immor- 
tality, of  the  conquest  of  the  spirit  over  the  flesh,  just 
as  a Christian  might  have  done?  Was  the  gulf  be- 
tween them  so  infinite  ? If  so,  why  had  her  aspirations 
awakened  echoes  in  his  own  heart — echoes  too,  just 


HYPATIA. 


183 


such  as  the  prayers  and  lessons  of  the  Laura  used  to 
awaken  ? If  the  fruit  was  so  like,  must  not  the  root 
he  like  also  ? . . . Could  that  be  a counterfeit  ? That 
a minister  of  Satan  in  the  robes  of  an  angel  of  light  ? 
Light,  at  least,  it  was:  purity,  simplicity,  courage, 
earnestness,  tenderness,  flashed  out  from  eye,  lip,  ges- 
ture. ...  A heathen,  who  disbelieved  ? . . . What 
was  the  meaning  of  it  all  ? 

But  the  finishing  stroke  yet  remained  which  was  to 
complete  the  utter  confusion,  of  his  mind.  For  before 
he  had  gone  fifty  yards  up  the  street,  his  little  friend 
of  the  fruit  basket,  whom  he  had  not  seen  since  he 
vanished  under  the  feet  of  the  mob,  in  the  gateway  of 
the  theatre,  clutched  him  by  the  arm,  and  burst  forth, 
breathless  with  running — 

“The — gods — heap  their  favors  — on  those  who — 
who  least  deserve  them!  Rash  and  insolent  rustic! 
And  this  is  the  reward  of  thy  madness ! ” 

“Off  with  you!”  said  Philammon,  who  had  no  mind 
at  the  moment  to  renew  his  acquaintance  with  the 
little  porter.  But  the  guardian  of  parasols  kept  a 
firm  hold  on  his  sheepskin. 

“Fool!  Hypatia  herself  commands!  Yes,  you  will 
see  her,  have  speech  with  her!  while  I — I the  illumin- 
ated— I the  appreciating — I the  obedient — I the  ador- 
ing— who  for  these  three  years  past  have  grovelled  in 
the  kennel,  that  the  hem  of  her  garment  might  touch 

the  tip  of  my  little  finger — I — I — I ” 

“What  do  you  want,  madman  ?” 

“ She  calls  for  thee,  insensate  wretch!  Theon  sent 
me — breathless  at  once  with  running  and  with  envy — 
Go!  favorite  of  the  unjust  gods!” 

“Who  is  Theon?” 

“Her  father,  ignorant!  He  commands  thee  to  be 
at  her  house — here — opposite — to-morrow,  at  the  third 


184 


HYPATIA. 


hour.  Hear  and  obey ! There ! they  are  coining  out 
of  the  Museum,  and  all  the  parasols  will  get  wrong. 
Oh,  miserable  me ! '' 

And  the  poor  little  fellow  rushed  back  again,  while 
Philammon,  at  his  wits'  end  between  dread  and  long- 
ing, started  off,  and  ran  the  whole  way  home  to  the 
Serapeium,  regardless  of  carriages,  elephants,  and 
foot-passengers;  and  having  been  knocked  down  by  a 
surly  porter,  and  left  a piece  of  his  sheepskin  between 
the  teeth  of  a spiteful  camel — neither  of  which  insults 
he  had  time  to  resent — arrived  at  the  archbishop's 
house,  found  Peter  the  Reader,  and  tremblingly  begged 
an  audience  from  Cyril. 


HYPATIA, 


185 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  SNAPPING  OF  THE  BOW. 

Cyril  heard  PhilammoiTs  story  and  Hypatia’s  mes- 
sage with  a quiet  smile,  and  then  dismissed  the  youth 
to  an  afternoon  of  labor  in  the  city,  commanding  him 
to  mention  no  word  of  what  had  happened,  and  to 
come  to  him  that  evening  and  receive  his  order,  when 
he  should  have  had  time  to  think  over  the  matter.  So 
forth  Philammon  went  with  his  companions,  through 
lanes  and  alleys  hideous  with  filth  and  poverty,  com- 
pulsory idleness  and  native  sin.  Fearfully  real  and 
practical  it  all  was;  but  he  saw  it  all  dimly  as  in  a 
dream.  Before  his  eyes  one  face  was  shining;  in  his 
ears  one  silvery  voice  was  ringing.  . . . "He  is  a 
monk,  and  knows  no  better.”  . . . True!  And  how 
should  he  know  better  ? How  could  he  tell  how  much 
more  there  was  to  know,  in  that  great  new  universe, 
in  such  a cranny  whereof  his  life  had  till  now  been 
passed  ? He  had  heard  but  one  side  already.  What  if 
there  were  two  sides  ? Had  he  not  a right — that  is, 
was  it  not  proper,  fair,  prudent,  that  he  should  hear 
both,  and  then  judge  ? 

Cyril  had  hardly,  perhaps,  done  wisely  for  the  youth 
in  sending  him  out  about  the  practical  drudgery  of 
benevolence,  before  deciding  for  him  what  was  his  duty 
with  regard  to  Hypatia’s  invitation.  He  had  not  cal- 
culated on  the  new  thoughts  which  were  tormenting 
the  young  monk ; perhaps  they  would  have  been  un- 


186 


HYPATIA. 


intelligible  to  him  had  he  known  of  them.  Cyril  had 
been  bred  up  under  the  most  stern  dogmatic  training, 
in  those  vast  monastic  establishments,  which  had 
arisen  amid  the  neighboring  saltpetre  quarries  of 
Nitria,  where  thousands  toiled  in  voluntary  poverty 
and  starvation  at  vast  bakeries,  dyeries,  brickfields, 
tailors*  shops,  carpenters*  yards;  and  expended  the 
profit  of  their  labor,  not  on  themselves,  for  they  had 
need  of  nothing,  but  on  churches,  hospitals,  and  alms. 
Educated  in  that  world  of  practical  industrial  produc- 
tion as  well  as  of  religious  exercise,  which  by  its  prox- 
imity to  the  great  city  accustomed  monks  to  that 
world  which  they  despised;  entangled  from  boyhood 
in  the  intrigues  of  his  fierce  and  ambitious  uncle  The- 
ophilus,  Cyril  had  succeeded  him  in  the  patriarchate 
of  Alexandria  without  having  felt  a doubt,  and  stood 
free  to  throw  his  fiery  energy  and  clear  practical  in- 
tellect into  the  cause  of  the  Church  without  scruple, 
even,  where  necessary,  without  pity.  How  could  such 
a man  sympathize  with  the  poor  boy  of  twenty,  sud- 
denly dragged  forth  from  the  quiet  cavern-shadow  of 
the  Laura  into  the  full  blaze  and  roar  of  the  world*s 
noonday  ? He,  too,  was  cloister-bred.  But  the  busy 
and  fanatic  atmosphere  of  Nitria,  where  every  nerve 
of  soul  and  body  was  kept  on  a life-long  artificial  strain, 
without  rest,  without  simplicity,  without  human  affec- 
tion, was  utterly  antipodal  to  the  government  of  the 
remote  and  needy,  though  no  less  industrious  common- 
wealths of  Coenobites,  who  dotted  the  lonely  mountain- 
glens,  far  up  into  the  heart  of  the  Nubian  desert.  In 
such  a one  Philammon  had  received,  from  a venerable 
man,  a mother’s  sympathy  as  well  as  a father’s  care, 
and  now  he  yearned  for  the  encouragement  of  a gentle 
voice,  for  the  greeting  of  a kindly  eye,  and  was  lonely 
and  sick  at  heart.  . . . And  still  Hypatia’s  voice 


HYPATIA. 


187 


haunted  his  ears,  like  a strain  of  music,  and  would  not 
die  away.  That  lofty  enthusiasm,  so  sweet  and  mod- 
est in  its  grandeur — that  tone  of  pity — in  one  so  lovely 
it  could  not  he  called  contempt — for  the  many;  that 
delicious  phantom  of  being  an  elect  spirit  . . . unlike 
the  crowd.  . . . “And  am  I altogether  like  the  crowd  ? ” 
said  Philammon  to  himself,  as  he  staggered  along 
under  the  weight  of  a groaning  fever-patient.  “ Can 
there  be  found  no  litter  work  for  me  than  this,  which 
any  porter  from  the  quay  might  do  as  well  ? Am  I 
not  somewhat  wasted  on  such  toil  as  this  ? Have  I 
not  an  intellect,  a taste,  a reason  ? I could  appreciate 
what  she  said.  Why  should  not  my  faculties  be  edu- 
cated ? Why  am  I only  to  be  shut  out  from  knowl- 
edge ? There  is  a Christian  Gnosis  as  well  as  a heathen 
one.  What  was  permissible  to  Clement” — he  had 
nearly  said  to  Origen,  but  checked  himself  on  the  edge 
of  heresy — “is  surely  lawful  for  me!  Is  not  my  very 
craving  for  knowledge  a sign  that  I am  capable  of  it  ? 
Surely  my  sphere  is  the  study  rather  than  the  street ! ” 
And  then  his  fellow-laborers — he  could  not  deny  it 
to  himself — began  to  grow  less  venerable  in  his  eyes. 
Let  him  try  as  he  might  to  forget  the  old  priest’s 
grumblings  and  detractions,  the  fact  was  before  him. 
The  men  were  coarse,  fierce,  noisy  ...  so  different 
from  her ! Their  talk  seemed  mere  gossip — scandalous 
too,  and  hard-judging,  most  of  it;  about  that  man’s 
private  ambition,  and  that  woman’s  proud  looks;  and 
who  had  stayed  for  the  Eucharist  the  Sunday  before, 
and  who  had  gone  out  after  the  sermon;  and  how  the 
majority  who  did  not  stay  could  possibly  dare  to  go 
and  how  the  minority  who  did  not  go  could  possibly 
dare  to  stay.  . . . Endless  suspicions,  sneers,  com- 
plaints . . . what  did  they  care  for  the  eternal  glories 
and  the  beatific  vision  ? Their  one  test  for  all  men  and 


188 


HYPATIA. 


things,  from  the  patriarch  to  prefect,  seemed  to  be — did 
he  or  it  advance  the  cause  of  the  Church  ? — which  Phi- 
lammon  soon  discovered  to  mean  their  own  cause,  their 
influence,  their  self  glorification.  And  the  poor  boy, 
as  his  faculty  for  fault-finding  quickened  under  the 
influence  of  theirs,  seemed  to  see  under  the  humble 
stock-phrases  in  which  they  talked  of  their  labors  of 
love,  and  the  future  reward  of  their  present  humilia- 
tions, a deep  and  hardly  hidden  pride,  a faith  in  their 
own  infallibility,  a contemptuous  impatience  of  every 
man,  however  venerable,  who  differed  from  their  party 
on  any,  even  the  slightest,  matter.  They  spoke  with 
sneers  of  Augustine’s  Latinizing  tendencies,  and  with 
open  execration  of  Chrysostom,  as  the  vilest  and  most 
impious  of  schismatics;  and,  for  aught  Philammon 
knew,  they  were  right  enough.  But  when  they  talked 
of  wars  and  desolations  past  and  impending,  without 
a word  of  pity  for  the  slain  and  ruined,  as  a just  judg- 
ment of  Heaven  upon  heretics  and  heathens;  when 
they  argued  over  the  awful  struggle  for  power  which, 
as  he  gathered  from  their  words,  was  pending  be- 
tween the  Emperor  and  the  Count  of  Africa,  as  if  it 
contained  but  one  question  of  interest  to  them — would 
Cyril,  and  they  as  his  body-guard,  gain  or  lose  power 
in  Alexandria  ? And  lastly,  when  at  some  mention  of 
Orestes,  and  of  Hypatia  as  his  counsellor,  they  broke 
out  into  open  imprecations  of  God’s  curse,  and  com- 
forted themselves  with  the  prospects  of  everlasting 
torments  for  both;  he  shuddered  and  asked  himself 
involuntarily — were  these  the  ministers  of  a Gospel  ? — 
were  these  the  fruits  of  Christ’s  Spirit  ? . . . And  a 
whisper  thrilled  through  the  inmost  depth  of  his  soul 
— “ Is  there  a Gospel  ? Is  there  a Spirit  of  Christ  ? 
Would  not  their  fruits  be  different  from  these  ? ” 

Faint,  and  low,  and  distant,  was  that  whisper,  like 


HYPATIA. 


189 


the  mutter  of  an  earthquake  miles  below  the  soil. 
And  yet,  like  the  earthquake-roll,  it  had  in  that  one 
moment  jarred  every  belief,  and  hope,  and  memory  of 
his  being1  each  a hair’s-breadth  from  its  place.  . . . 
Only  one  hair’s-breadth.  But  that  was  enough;  his 
whole  inward  and  outward  world  changed  shape,  and 
cracked  at  every  joint.  What  if  it  were  to  fall  in 
pieces  ? His  brain  reeled  with  the  thought.  He 
doubted  his  own  identity.  The  very  light  of  heaven 
had  altered  its  hue.  Was  the  firm  ground  on  which 
he  stood  after  all  no  solid  reality,  but  a fragile  shell 
which  covered — what  ? 

The  nightmare  vanished,  and  he  breathed  once  more. 
What  a strange  dream!  The  sun  and  the  exertion 
must  have  made  him  giddy.  He  would  forget  all 
about  it. 

Weary  with  labor,  and  still  wearier  with  thought, 
he  returned  that  evening,  longing,  and  yet  dreading 
to  be  permitted  to  speak  with  Hypatia.  He  half  hoped 
at  moments  that  Cyril  might  think  him  too  weak  for 
it;  and  the  next,  all  his  pride  and  daring,  not  to  say 
his  faith  and  hope,  spurred  him  on.  Might  he  but  face 
the  terrible  enchantress,  and  rebuke  her  to  her  face! 
And  yet  so  lovely,  so  noble  as  she  looked!  Could  he 
speak  to  her,  except  in  tones  of  gentle  warning,  pity, 
counsel,  entreaty  ? Might  he  not  convert  her — save 
her  ? Glorious  thought ! to  win  such  a soul  to  the  true 
cause!  To  be  able  to  show,  as  the  first-fruits  of  his 
mission,  the  very  champion  of  heathendom!  It  was 
worth  while  to  have  lived  only  to  do  that,  and,  having 
done  it,  to  die. 

The  archbishop’s  lodgings,  when  he  entered  them, 
were  in  a state  of  ferment  even  greater  than  usual. 
Groups  of  monks,  priests,  parabolani,  and  citizens,  rich 
and  poor,  were  hanging  about  the  courtyard,  talking 


190 


HYPATIA. 


earnestly  and  angrily.  A large  party  of  monks  fresh 
from  Nitria,  with  ragged  hair  and  beards,  and  the 
peculiar  expression  of  countenance  which  fanatics  of 
all  creeds  acquire,  fierce  and  yet  abject,  self-conscious 
and  yet  ungoverned,  silly  and  yet  sly,  with  features 
coarsened  and  degraded  by  continual  fasting  and  self- 
torture,  prudishly  shrouded  from  head  to  heel  in  their 
long  ragged  gowns,  were  gesticulating  wildly  and 
loudly,  and  calling  on  their  more  peaceable  compan- 
ions, in  no  measured  terms,  to  revenge  some  insult 
offered  to  the  Church. 

" What  is  the  matter  ? ” asked  Philammon  of  a quiet 
portly  citizen,  who  stood  looking  up,  with  a most  per- 
plexed visage,  at  the  windows  of  the  patriarch’s  apart- 
ments. 

" Don’t  ask  me;  I have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Why 
does  not  his  holiness  come  out  and  speak  to  them  ? 
Blessed  Virgin,  mother  of  God!  that  we  were  well 
through  it  all! ” 

"Coward!”  bawled  a monk  in  his  ear.  "These 
shopkeepers  care  for  nothing  but  seeing  their  stalls 
safe.  Rather  than  lose  a day’s  custom,  they  would 
give  the  very  churches  to  be  plundered  by  the  heathen ! ” 
"We  do  not  want  them!”  cried  another.  "We 
managed  Dioscuros  and  his  brother,  and  we  can  man- 
age Orestes.  What  matter  what  answer  he  sends  ? 
The  devil  shall  have  his  own ! ” 

"They  ought  to  have  been  back  two  hours  ago; 
they  are  murdered  by  this  time.” 

" He  would  not  dare  to  touch  the  archdeacon ! ” 

"He  will  dare  anything.  Cyril  should  never  have 
sent  them  forth  as  lambs  among  wolves.  What  neces- 
sity was  there  for  letting  the  prefect  know  that  the 
Jews  were  gone  ? He  would  have  found  it  out  for  him- 
self fast  enough,  the  next  time  he  wanted  to  borrow 
money.” 


HYPATIA. 


191 


“ What  is  this  all  about,  reverend  sir  ? ” asked  Plii- 
lammon  of  Peter  the  Reader,  who  made  his  appearance 
at  that  moment  in  the  quadrangle,  walking  with  great 
strides,  like  the  soul  of  Agamemnon  across  the  meads 
of  Asphodel,  and  apparently  beside  himself  with 
rage. 

“Ah ! you  here?  You  may  go  to-morrow,  young 
fool!  The  patriarch  can’t  talk  to  you.  Why  should 
he  ? Some  people  have  a great  deal  too  much  notice 
taken  of  them,  in  my  opinion.  Yes;  you  may  go.  If 
your  head  is  not  turned  already,  you  may  go  and  get 
it  turned  to-morrow.  We  shall  see  whether  he  who 
exalts  himself  is  not  abased,  before  all  is  over!  ” And 
he  was  striding  away,  when  Philammon,  at  the  risk  of 
an  explosion,  stopped  him. 

“His  holiness  commanded  me  to  see  him,  sir,  be- 
fore  ■” 

Peter  turned  on  him  in  a fury.  “ Fool ! will  you 
dare  to  intrude  your  fantastical  dreams  on  him  at 
such  a moment  as  this  ? ” 

“ He  commanded  me  to  see  him,”  said  Philammon, 
with  the  true  soldier-like  discipline  of  a monk;  “and 
see  him  I will,  in  spite  of  any  man.  I believe  in  my 
heart  you  wish  to  keep  me  from  his  counsels  and  his 
blessing.” 

Peter  looked  at  him  for  a moment  with  a right 
wicked  expression,  and  then,  to  the  youth’s  astonish- 
ment, struck  him  full  in  the  face,  and  yelled  for  help. 

If  the  blow  had  been  given  by  Pam  bo  in  the  Laura 
a week  before,  Philammon  would  have  borne  it.  But 
from  that  man,  and  coming  unexpectedly  as  the  finish- 
ing stroke  to  all  his  disappointment  and  disgust,  it 
was  intolerable;  and  in  an  instant  Peter’s  long  legs 
were  sprawling  on  the  pavement,  while  he  bellowed 
like  a bull  for  all  the  monks  of  Yitria. 


192 


HYPATIA. 


A dozen  lean  brown  hands  were  at  Philammon’s 
throat  as  Peter  rose. 

“Seize  him!  hold  him!”  half  blubbered  he.  “The 
traitor!  the  heretic!  He  holds  communion  with 
heathens ! ” 

“ Down  with  him ! ” “ Cast  him  out ! ” “ Carry  him 
to  the  archbishop!”  while  Philammon  shook  himself 
free  and  Peter  returned  to  the  charge. 

“ I call  all  good  Catholics  to  witness ! He  has  beaten 
an  ecclesiastic  in  the  courts  of  the  Lord’s  house,  even 
in  the  midsb  of  thee,  O Jerusalem!  And  he  was  in 
Hypatia’s  lecture-room  this  morning ! ” 

A groan  of  pious  horror  rose.  Philammon  set  his 
back  against  the  wall. 

“ His  holiness  the  patriarch  sent  me.” 

“ He  confesses,  he  confesses.  He  deluded  the  piety 
of  the  patriarch  into  letting  him  go,  under  color  of 
converting  her;  and  even  now  he  wants  to  intrude  on 
the  sacred  presence  of  Cyril,  burning  only  with  carnal 
desire  that  he  may  meet  the  sorceress  in  her  house  to- 
morrow.” 

“ Scandal ! ” “Abomination  in  the  holy  place ! ” and 
a rush  at  the  poor  youth  took  place. 

His  blood  was  thoroughly  up.  The  respectable  part 
of  the  crowd,  as  is  usual  in  such  cases,  prudently  re- 
treated, and  left  him  to  the  mercy  of  the  monks,  with 
an  eye  to  their  own  reputation  for  orthodoxy,  not  to 
mention  their  personal  safety,  and  he  had  to  help  him- 
self as  he  could.  He  looked  round  for  a weapon. 
There  was  none.  The  ring  of  monks  were  baying  at 
him  like  hounds  round  a bear;  and  though  he  might 
have  been  a match  for  any  one  of  them  singly,  yet 
their  sinewy  limbs  and  determined  faces  warned  him 
that  against  such  odds  the  struggle  would  be  des- 
perate. 


HYPATIA. 


193 


“Let  me  leave  this  court  in  safety!  God  knows 
whether  I am  an  heretic;  and  to  Him  I commit  my 
cause ! The  holy  patriarch  shall  know  of  your  iniquity. 
I will  not  trouble  you;  I give  you  leave  to  call  me 
heretic,  or  heathen,  if  you  will,  if  I cross  this  threshold 
till  Cyril  himself  sends  for  me  back  to  shame  you.” 

And  he  turned,  and  forced  his  way  to  the  gate,  amid 
a yell  of  derision  which  brought  every  drop  of  blood 
in  his  body  into  his  cheeks.  Twice,  as  he  went  down 
the  vaulted  passage,  a rush  was  made  on  him  from 
behind,  but  the  soberer  of  his  persecutors  checked  it.. 
Yet  he  could  not  leave  them,  young  and  hot-headed  as. 
he  was,  without  one  last  word,  and  on  the  threshold 
he  turned. 

“You ! who  call  yourselves  the  disciples  of  the  Lord, 
and  are  more  like  the  demoniacs  who  abode  day  and 
night  in  the  tombs,  crying  and  cutting  themselves 
with  stones ” 

In  an  instant  they  rushed  upon  him;  and,  luckily 
for  him,  rushed  also  into  the  arms  of  a party  of  eccle- 
siastics, who  were  hurrying  inward  from  the  street, 
with  faces  of  blank  terror. 

“ He  has  refused ! ” shouted  the  foremost.  “ He  de- 
clares war  against  the  Church  of  God ! ” 

“O  my  friends,”  panted  the  arcndeacon,  “we  are 
escaped  like  the  bird  out  of  the  snare  of  the  fowler. 
The  tyrant  kept  us  waiting  two  hours  at  his  palace 
gates,  and  then  sent  lictors  out  upon  us,  with  rods  and 
axes,  telling  us  that  they  were  the  only  message  which 
he  had  for  robbers  and  rioters.” 

“ Back  to  the  patriarch ! ” and  the  whole  mob 
streamed  in  again,  leaving  Philammon  alone  in  the 
street — and  in  the  world. 

Whither  now  ? 

He  strode  on  in  his  wrath  some  hundred  yards  or 


194 


HYPATIA. 


more  before  he  asked  himself  that  question.  And 
when  he  asked  it,  he  found  himself  in  no  humor  to 
answer  it.  He  was  adrift,  and  blown  out  of  harbor 
upon  a shoreless  sea,  in  utter  darkness;  all  heaven 
and  earth  were  nothing-  to  him.  He  was  alone  in  the 
blindness  of  anger. 

Gradually  one  fixed  idea,  as  a light  tower,  began  to 
glimmer  through  the  storm.  ...  To  see  Hypatia,  and 
convert  her.  He  had  the  patriarch's  leave  for  that. 
That  must  be  right.  That  would  justify  him — bring 
him  back,  perhaps,  in  a triumph  more  glorious  than 
any  Caesar's,  leading  captive,  in  the  fetters  of  the 
Gospel,  the  Queen  of  Heathendom.  Yes,  there  was 
that  left,  for  which  to  live. 

His  passion  cooled  down  gradually  as  he  wandered 
on  in  the  fading  evening-light,  up  one  street  and  down 
another,  till  he  had  utterly  lost  his  way.  What  mat- 
ter ? He  should  find  that  lecture-room  to-morrow  at 
least.  At  last  he  found  himself  in  a broad  avenue, 
which  he  seemed  to  know.  Was  that  the  Sun-gate  in 
the  distance?  He  sauntered  carelessly  down  it,  and 
found  himself  at  last  on  the  great  Esplanade,  whither 
the  little  porter  had  taken  him  three  days  before.  He 
was  close  then  to  the  Museum,  and  to  her  house. 
Destiny  had  led  him,  unconsciously,  toward  the  scene 
of  his  enterprise.  It  was  a good  omen;  he  would  go 
thither  at  once.  He  might  sleep  upon  her  door-step 
as  well  as  upon  any  other.  Perhaps  he  might  catch  a 
glimpse  of  her  going  out  or  coming  in,  even  at  that 
late  hour.  It  might  be  well  to  accustom  himself  to 
the  sight  of  her.  There  would  be  the  less  chance  of 
his  being  abashed  to-morrow  before  those  sorceress 
eyes.  And,  moreover,  to  tell  the  truth,  his  self-de- 
pendence, and  his  self-will,  too,  crushed,  or  rather  laid 
to  sleep,  by  the  discipline  of  the  Laura,  had  started 


HYPATIA. 


195 


into  wild  life,  and  gave  him  a mysterious  pleasure, 
which  he  had  not  felt  since  he  was  a disobedient  little 
boy,  of  doing  what  he  chose,  right  or  wrong,  simply 
because  he  chose  it.  Such  moments  come  to  every 
free-willed  creature.  Happy  are  those  who  have  not, 
like  poor  Philammon,  been  kept  by  a hotbed  cultiva- 
tion from  knowing  how  to  face  them ! But  he  had  yet 
to  learn,  or  rather  his  tutors  had  to  learn,  that  the 
sure  path  toward  willing  obedience  and  manful  self- 
restraint,  lies  not  through  slavery,  but  through  liberty. 

He  was  not  certain  which  was  Hypatia’s  house;  but 
the  door  of  the  Museum  he  could  not  forget.  So  there 
he  sat  himself  down  under  the  garden-wall,  soothed 
by  the  cool  night,  and  the  holy  silence,  and  the  rich 
perfume  of  the  thousand  foreign  flowers  which  filled 
the  air  with  enervating  balm.  There  he  sat,  and 
watched,  and  watched,  and  watched  in  vain  for  some 
glimpse  of  his  one  object.  Which  of  the  houses  was 
hers  ? Which  was  the  window  of  her  chamber  ? Did 
it  look  into  the  street  ? What  business  had  his  fancy 
with  women’s  chambers  ? . . . But  that  one  open 
window,  with  the  lamp  burning  bright  inside — he  could 
not  help  looking  up  to  it — he  could  not  help  fancying 
— hoping.  He  even  moved  a few  yards  to  see  better 
the  bright  interior  of  the  room.  High  up  as  it  was, 
he  could  still  discern  shelves  of  books — pictures  on  the 
walls.  Was  that  a voice?  Yes!  a woman’s  voice — 
reading  aloud  in  metre — was  plainly  distinguishable 
in  the  dead  stillness  of  the  night,  which  did  not  even 
awaken  a whisper  in  the  trees  above  his  head.  He 
stood  spellbound  by  curiosity. 

Suddenly  the  voice  ceased,  and  a woman’s  figure 
came  forward  to  the  window,  and  stood  motionless, 
gazing  upward  at  the  spangled  star-world  overhead, 
and  seeming  to  drink  in  the  glory,  and  the  silence,  and 


196 


HYPATIA. 


the  rich  perfume.  . . . Could  it  he  she  ? Every  pulse 
in  his  body  throbbed  madly.  . . . Could  it  be  ? What 
was  she  doing*  ? He  could  not  distinguish  the  features; 
but  the  full  blaze  of  the  eastern  moon  showed  him  an 
upturned  brow,  between  a golden  stream  of  glittering 
tresses  which  hid  her  whole  figure,  except  the  white 
hands  clasped  upon  her  bosom.  . . . Was  she  pray- 
ing ? were  these  her  midnight  sorceries  ? . . 


Suddenly  the  voice  ceased,  and  a woman’s  figure  came  forward  to  the  window. 


And  still  his  heart  throbbed  and  throbbed,  till  he 
almost  fancied  she  must  hear  its  noisy  beat — and  still 
she  stood  motionless,  gazing  upon  the  sky,  like  some 
exquisite  chryselephantine  statue,  all  ivory  and  gold. 
And  behind  her,  round  the  bright  room  within,  paint- 
ings, books,  a whole  world  of  unknown  science  and 
beauty  . . . and  she  the  priestess  of  it  all  . . . invit- 
ing him  to  learn  of  her  and  be  wise ! It  was  a tempta- 


HYPATIA. 


197 


tion ! He  would  flee  from  it ! Fool  that  he  was ! and 
it  might  not  he  she  after  all ! 

He  made  some  sudden  movement.  She  looked  down, 
saw  him,  and  shutting  the  blind  vanished  for  the  night. 
In  vain  now  that  the  temptation  had  departed,  he  sat 
and  waited  for  its  reappearance,  half  cursing  himself 
for  having  broken  the  spell.  But  the  chamber  was 
dark  and  silent  henceforth;  and  Philammon,  wearied 
out,  found  himself  soon  wandering  back  to  the  Laura 
in  quiet  dreams,  beneath  the  balmy,  semi-tropic  night. 


198 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  INTERVIEW. 

Philammon  was  aroused  from  his  slumbers  at  sun- 
rise the  next  morning'  by  the  attendants  who  came  in 
to  sweep  out  the  lecture-rooms,  and  wandered  discon- 
solately enough  up  and  down  the  street,  longing  for, 
and  yet  dreading,  the  three  weary  hours  to  be  over 
which  must  pass  before  he  would  be  admitted  to  Hy- 
patia. But  he  had  tasted  no  food  since  noon  the  daj 
before ; he  had  had  but  three  hours’  sleep  the  previous 
night,  and  had  been  working,  running,  and  fighting 
for  two  whole  days  without  a moment’s  peace  of  body 
or  mind.  Sick  with  hunger  and  fatigue,  and  aching 
from  head  to  foot  with  his  hard  night’s  rest  on  the 
granite-flags,  he  felt  as  unable  as  man  could  well  do 
to  collect  his  thoughts  or  brace  his  nerves  for  the 
coming  interview.  How  to  get  food  he  could  not 
guess : but  having  two  hands,  he  might  at  least  earn 
a coin  by  carrying  a load;  so  he  went  down  to  the 
Esplanade  in  search  of  work.  Of  that,  alas!  there 
was  none.  So  he  sat  down  on  the  parapet  of  the 
quay,  and  w^atched  the  shoals  of  sardines  which  played 
in  and  out  over  the  marble  steps  below,  and  wondered 
at  the  strange  crabs  and  sea  locusts  which  crawled 
up  and  down  the  face  of  the  masonry,  a few  feet  below 
the  surface,  scrambling  for  bits  of  offal,  and  making 
occasional  fruitless  dashes  at  the  nimble  little  silver 
arrows  which  played  round  them.  And  at  last  his 


HYPATIA. 


199 


whole  soul,  too  tired  to  think  of  anything  else,  became 
absorbed  in  a mighty  struggle  between  two  great 
crabs,  who  held  on  stoutly,  each  by  a claw,  to  his  re- 
spective bunch  of  seaweed,  while  with  the  others  they 
tugged,  one  at  the  head  and  the  other  at  the  tail  of  a 
dead  fish.  Which  would  conquer?  . . . Ay,  which? 
And  for  five  minutes  Philammon  was  alone  in  the 
world  with  the  two  struggling  heroes.  . . . Might  not 
they  be  emblematic  ? Might  not  the  upper  one  typify 
Cyril  ? — the  lower  one  Hypatia  ? — and  the  dead  fish 
between,  himself  ? . . . But  at  last  the  dead-lock  was 
suddenly  ended — the  fish  parted  in  the  middle:  and 
the  typical  Hypatia  and  Cyril,  losing  hold  of  their  re- 
spective seaweeds  by  the  jerk,  tumbled  down,  each 
with  its  half  fish,  and  vanished  head  over  heels  into 
the  blue  depths  in  so  undignified  a manner  that  Phil- 
ammon burst  into  a shout  of  laughter. 

“What's  the  joke?"  asked  a well-known  voice  be- 
hind him;  and  a hand  patted  him  familiarly  on  the 
back.  He  looked  round,  and  saw  the  little  porter,  his 
head  crowned  with  a full  basket  of  figs,  grapes,  and 
watermelons,  on  which  the  poor  youth  cast  a longing 
eye.  “Well,  my  young  friend,  and  why  are  you  not 
at  church  ? Look  at  all  the  saints  pouring  into  the 
Csesareum  there,  behind  you." 

Philammon  answered  sulkily  enough  something  in- 
articulate. 

“Ho,  ho!  Quarrelled  with  the  successor  of  the 
Apostles  already  ? Has  my  prophecy  come  true,  and 
the  strong  meat  of  pious  riot  and  plunder  proved  too 
highly  spiced  for  your  young  palate.  Eh  ? " 

Poor  Philammon!  Angry  with  himself  for  feeling 
that  the  porter  was  right;  shrinking  from  the  notion 
of  exposing  the  failings  of  his  fello  w-Christians;  shrink- 
ing still  more  from  making  such  a jackanapes  his  con- 


200 


HYPATIA. 


fidant : and  yet  yearning*  in  his  loneliness  to  open  his 
heart  to  some  one,  he  dropped  out,  hint  by  hint,  word 
by  word,  the  events  of  the  past  evening,  and  finished 
by  a request  to  be  put  in  the  way  of  earning  his  break- 
fast. 

“ Earning  your  breakfast!  Shall  the  favorite  of  the 
gods — shall  the  guest  of  Hypatia — earn  his  breakfast, 
while  I have  an  obol  to  share  with  him  ? Base  thought ! 
Youth  I have  wronged  you.  Unphilosophically  I al- 
lowed, yesterday  morning,  envy  to  ruffle  the  ocean  of 
my  intellect.  We  are  now  friends  and  brothers  in 
hatred  to  the  monastic  tribe.” 

“ I do  not  hate  them,  I tell  you,”  said  Philammon. 
“But  these  Nitrian  savages ” 

“Are  the  perfect  examples  of  monkery,  and  you  hate 
them;  and  therefore,  all  greaters  containing  the  less, 
you  hate  all  less  monastic  monks — I have  not  heard 
logic  lectures  in  vain.  Now,  up!  The  sea  woos  our 
dusty  limbs.  Nereids  and  Tritons,  charging  no  cruel 
coin,  call  us  to  Nature’s  bath.  At  home  a mighty 
sheat-fish  smokes  upon  the  festive  board;  beer  crowns 
the  horn,  and  onions  deck  the  dishes;  come  then,  my 
guest  and  brother  ? ” 

Philammon  swallowed  certain  scruples  about  be- 
coming the  guest  of  a heathen,  seeing  that  otherwise 
there  seemed  no  chance  of  having  anything  else  to 
swallow ; and  after  a refreshing  plunge  in  the  sea,  fol- 
lowed the  hospitable  little  fellow  to  Hypatia’s  door, 
where  he  dropped  his  daily  load  of  fruit,  and  then  into 
a narrow  by-street,  to  the  ground  floor  of  a huge  block 
■ of  lodgings,  with  a common  staircase,  swarming  with 
children,  cats,  and  chickens;  and  was  ushered  by  his 
host  into  a little  room,  where  the  savory  smell  of 
broiling  fish  revived  Philammon’s  heart. 

“Judith!  Judith!  where  lingerest  thou  ? Marble  of 


HYPATIA. 


201 


Pentelicus ! foam-flake  of  the  wine-dark  main ! lily  of 
the  Mareotic  lake!  You  accursed  black  Andromeda, 
if  you  don’t  bring*  the  breakfast  this  moment,  I’ll  cut 
you  in  two ! ” 

The  inner  door  opened,  and  in  bustled,  trembling*, 
her  hands  full  of  dishes,  a tall  lithe  negress  dressed  in 
true  negro  fashion,  in  a snow-white  cotton  shift,  a 
scarlet  cotton  petticoat,  and  a bright  yellow  turban 
of  the  same,  making  a light  in  that  dark  place  which 
would  have  served  as  a landmark  a mile  off.  She  put 
the  dishes  down,  and  the  porter  majestically  waved 
Philammon  to  a stool;  while  she  retreated  and  stood 
humbly  waiting  on  her  lord  and  master,  who  did  not 
deign  to  introduce  to  his  guest  the  black  beauty  which 
composed  his  whole  seraglio.  . . . But,  indeed,  such  an 
act  of  courtesy  would  have  been  needless,  for  the  first 
morsel  of  fish  was  hardly  safe  in  Philammon’s  mouth, 
when  the  negress  rushed  upon  him,  caught  him  by  the 
head,  and  covered  him  with  rapturous  kisses. 

Up  jumped  the  little  man  with  a yell,  brandishing 
a knife  in  one  hand  and  a leek  in  the  other;  while 
Philammon,  scarcely  less  scandalized,  jumped  up  too, 
and  shook  himself  free  of  the  lady,  who,  finding  it  im- 
possible to  vent  her  feelings  further  on  his  head,  in- 
stantly changed  her  tactics,  and,  wallowing  on  the 
floor,  began  frantically  kissing  his  feet. 

“What  is  this?  Before  my  face!  Up,  shameless 
baggage,  or  thou  diest  the  death !”  and  the  porter 
pulled  her  up  upon  her  knees. 

“ It  is  the  monk ! the  young  man  I told  you  of,  who 
saved  me  from  the  Jews  the  other  night!  What  good 
angel  sent  him  here  that  I might  thank  him  ? ” cried 
the  poor  creature,  while  the  tears  ran  down  her  black 
shining  face. 

“ I am  that  good  angel,”  said  the  porter,  with  a look 


202 


HYPATIA. 


of  intense  self-satisfaction.  “ Rise,  daughter  of  Erebus : 
thou  art  pardoned,  being  but  a female.  What  says 
the  poet  ? — 

‘Woman  is  passion’s  slave,  while  rightful  lord 
O’er  her  and  passion,  rules  the  nobler  male.’ 

Youth!  to  my  arms!  Truly  say  the  philosophers, 
that  the  universe  is  magical  in  itself,  and  by  mysteri- 
ous sympathies  links  like  to  like.  The  prophetic  in- 
stinct of  thy  future  benefits  toward  me  drew  me  to 
thee  as  by  an  invisible  warp,  hawser,  or  chain-cable, 
from  the  moment  I beheld  thee.  Thou  wert  a kindred 
spirit,  my  brother,  though  thou  knewest  it  not.  There- 
fore I do  not  praise  thee — no,  nor  thank  thee  in  the 
least,  though  thou  hast  preserved  for  me  the  one  palm 
which  shadows  my  weary  steps — the  single  lotus-flower 
(in  this  case  black,  nob  white)  which  blooms  for  me 
above  the  mud -stained  ocean  waves  of  the  Hylic  Bor- 
boros.  That  which  thou  hast  done,  thou  hast  done  by 
instinct — by  divine  compulsion — thou  couldst  no  more 
help  it  than  thou  canst  help  eating  that  fish,  and  art 
no  more  to  be  praised  for  it.” 

“ Thank  you,”  said  Philammon. 

“ Comprehend  me.  Our  theory  in  the  schools  for 
such  cases  is  this — has  been  so  at  least  for  the  last  six 
months:  similar  particles,  from  one  original  source, 
exist  in  you  and  me.  Similar  causes  produce  similar 
effects;  our  attractions,  antipathies,  impulses,  are 
therefore,  in  similar  circumstances,  absolutely  the 
same;  and  therefore  you  did  the  other  night  exactly 
what  I should  have  done  in  your  case.” 

Philammon  thought  the  latter  part  of  the  theory 
open  to  question,  but  he  had  by  no  means  stopped 
eating  when  ne  rose,  and  his  mouth  was  much  too  full 
of  fish  to  argue. 


HYPATIA. 


203 


“And  therefore/’  continued  the  little  man,  “we  are 
to  consider  ourselves  henceforth  as  one  soul  in  two 
bodies.  You  may  have  the  best  of  the  corporeal  part 
of  the  division  . . . yet  it  is  the  soul  which  makes  the 
person.  You  may  trust  me,  I shall  not  disdain  my 
brotherhood.  If  any  one  insults  you  henceforth,  you 
have  hut  to  call  me;  and  if  I he  within  hearing-,  why, 
by  this  right  arm •” 

And  he  attempted  a pat  on  Philammon’s  head, 
which,  as  there  was  a head  and  shoulder’s  difference 
between  them,  might  on  the  whole  have  been  consid- 
ered, from  a theatric  point  of  view,  as  a failure. 
Whereon  the  little  man  seized  the  calabash  of  beer, 
and  filling  therewith  a cow’s  horn,  his  thumb  on  the 
small  end,  raised  it  high  in  the  air. 

“To  the  Tenth  Muse,  and  to  your  interview  with 
her!” 

And  removing  his  thumb,  he  sent  a steady  jet  into 
his  open  mouth,  and  having  drained  the  horn  without 
drawing  breath,  licked  his  lips,  handed  it  to  Philam- 
mon,  and  flew  ravenously  upon  the  fish  and  onions. 

Philammon,  to  whom  the  whole  was  supremely  ab- 
surd, had  no  invocation  to  make,  but  one  which  he  felt 
too  sacred  for  his  present  temper  of  mind;  so  he  at- 
tempted to  imitate  the  little  man’s  feat,  and,  of  course, 
poured  the  beer  into  his  eyes,  and  up  his  nose,  and  in 
his  bosom,  and  finally  choked  himself  black  in  the  face, 
while  his  host  observed,  smilingly- — 

“Aha,  rustic!  unacquainted  with  the  ancient  and 
classical  customs  preserved  in  this  centre  of  civiliza- 
tion by  the  descendants  of  Alexander’s  heroes  ? Ju- 
dith! clear  the  table.  Now  to  the  sanctuary  of  the 
Muses ! ” 

Philammon  rose,  and  finished  his  meal  by  a monk- 
ish grace.  A gentle  and  reverend  “Amen  ” rose  from 


204 


HYPATIA. 


the  other  end  of  the  room.  It  was  the  negress.  She 
saw  him  look  up  at  her,  dropped  her  eyes  modestly, 
and  hustled  away  with  the  remnants,  while  Philam- 
mon  and  his  host  started  for  Hypatia's  lecture-room. 

“ Y our  wife  is  a Christian  ? " asked  he,  when  they 
were  outside  the  door. 

“Ahem ! The  barbaric  mind  is  prone  to  super- 

stition. Yet  she  is,  being  hut  a woman  and  a negress, 
a good  soul  and  thrifty,  though  requiring,  like  all 
lower  animals,  occasional  chastisement.  I married 
her  on  philosophic  grounds.  A wife  was  necessary  to 
me  for  several  reasons;  hut  mindful  that  the  philoso- 
pher should  subjugate  the  material  appetite,  and  rise 
above  the  swinish  desires  of  the  flesh,  even  when  his 
nature  requires  him  to  satisfy  them,  I purposed  to 
make  pleasure  as  unpleasant  as  possible.  I had  the 
choice  of  several  cripples — their  parents,  of  ancient 
Macedonian  family  like  myself,  were  by  no  means  ad- 
verse : but  I required  a housekeeper  with  whose  duties 
the  want  of  an  arm  or  a leg  might  have  interfered." 

“ Why  did  you  not  marry  a scold  ? " asked  Philam- 
mon. 

“ Pertinently  observed : and  indeed  the  example  of 
Socrates  rose  luminous  more  than  once  before  my 
imagination.  But  philosophic  calm,  my  dear  youth, 
and  the  peaceful  contemplation  of  the  ineffable  ! I 
could  not  relinquish  those  luxuries.  So  having,  by  the 
bounty  of  Hypatia  and  her  pupils,  saved  a small  sum, 
I went  out,  bought  me  a negress,  and  hired  six  rooms 
in  the  block  we  have  just  left,  where  I let  lodgings  to 
young  students  of  the  Divine  Philosophy." 

“ Have  you  any  lodgers  now  ? " 

“Ahem!  Certain  rooms  are  occupied  by  a lady  of 
rank.  The  philosopher  will,  above  all  things,  abstain 
from  babbling.  To  bridle  the  tongue  is  to But 


HYPATIA. 


205 

there  is  a closet  at  your  service;  and  for  the  hall  of 
reception,  which  you  have  just  left — are  you  not  a 
kindred  and  fraternal  spark?  We  can  combine  our 
meals,  as  our  souls  are  already  united/’ 

Philammon  thanked  him  heartily  for  the  offer, 
though  he  shrank  from  accepting  it;  and  in  ten  min- 
utes more  found  himself  at  the  door  of  the  very  house 
which  he  had  been  watching  the  night  before.  It  was 
she,  then,  whom  he  had  seen!  . . . He  was  handed 
over  by  a black  porter  to  a smart  slave-girl,  who 
guided  him  up,  through  cloisters  and  corridors,  to  the 
large  library,  where  five  or  six  young  men  were  sit- 
ting, busily  engaged  under  Theon’s  superintendence, 
in  copying  manuscripts  and  drawing  geometric  dia- 
grams. 

Philammon  gazed  curiously  at  these  symbols  of  a 
science  unknown  to  him,  and  wondered  whether  the 
day  would  ever  come  when  he  too  would  understand 
their  mysteries;  but  his  eyes  fell  again  as  he  saw  the 
youths  staring  at  his  ragged  sheepskin  and  matted 
locks  with  undisguised  contempt.  He  could  hardly 
collect  himself  enough  to  obey  the  summons  of  the 
venerable  old  man,  as  he  beckoned  him  silently  out  of 
the  room,  and  led  him,  with  the  titters  of  the  young 
students  ringing  in  his  ears,  through  the  door  by  which 
he  had  entered,  and  along  a gallery,  till  he  stopped 
and  knocked  humbly  at  a door.  . . . She  must  be 
within!  . . . How!  . . . at  last.  . . . His  knees  knocked 
together  under  him.  His  heart  sank  and  sank  into 
abysses!  Poor  wretch!  . . . He  was  half-minded  once 
to  escape  and  dash  into  the  street  . . . but  was  it  not 
his  one  hope,  his  one  object  ? . . . But  why  did  not 
that  old  man  speak  ? If  he  would  have  but  said  some- 
thing! ...  If  he  would  only  have  looked  cross,  con- 
temptuous ! . . . But  with  the  same  impressive  gravity 


206 


HYPATIA. 


as  of  a man  upon  a business  in  which  he  had  no  voice, 
and  wished  it  to  be  understood  that  he  had  none,  the 
old  man  silently  opened  the  door,  and  Philammon  fol- 
lowed. . . . There  she  was ! looking*  more  glorious  than 
ever:  more  than  when  glowing  with  the  enthusiasm 
of  her  own  eloquence;  more  than  when  transfigured 
last  night  in  golden  tresses  and  glittering  moonbeams. 
There  she  sat,  without  moving  a finger,  as  the  two  en- 
tered. She  greeted  her  father  with  a smile,  which 
made  up  for  all  her  seeming  want  of  courtesy  to  him, 
and  then  fixed  her  large  gray  eyes  full  on  Philammon. 

“ Here  is  the  youth,  my  daughter.  It  was  your 
wish,  you  know;  and  I always  believe  that  you  know 
best •” 

Another  smile  put  an  end  to  the  speech,  and  the  old 
man  retreated  humbly  toward  another  door,  with  a 
somewhat  anxious  visage,  and  then  lingering  and  look- 
ing back,  his  hand  upon  the  latch — 

“ If  you  require  any  one,  you  know  you  have  only  to 
call — we  shall  be  all  in  the  library.” 

Another  smile;  and  the  old  man  disappeared,  leav- 
ing the  two  alone. 

Philammon  stood  trembling,  choking,  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  floor.  Where  were  all  the  fine  things  he  had 
conned  over  for  the  occasion  ? He  dared  not  look  up 
at  that  face,  lest  it  should  drive  them  out  of  his  head. 
And  yet  the  more  he  kept  his  eyes  turned  from  the 
face,  the  more  he  was  conscious  of  it,  conscious  that  it 
was  watching  him;  and  the  more  all  the  fine  words 
were,  by  that  very  knowledge,  driven  out  of  his  head. 
. . . When  would  she  speak  ? Perhaps  she  wished 
him  to  speak  first.  It  was  her  duty  to  begin ; for  she 
had  sent  for  him.  . . . But  still  she  kept  silence,  and 
sat  scanning  him  intently  from  head  to  foot,  herself 
as  motionless  as  a statue;  her  hands  folded  together 


HYPATIA. 


207 


before  her,  over  the  manuscript  which  lay  upon  her 
knee.  If  there  was  a blush  on  her  cheek  at  her  own 
daring*,  his  eyes  swam  too  much  to  notice  it. 

When  would  the  intolerable  suspense  end  ? She 
was,  perhaps,  as  unwilling  to  speak  as  he.  But  some 
one  must  strike  the  first  blow;  and,  as  often  happens, 
the  weaker  party,  impelled  by  sheer  fear,  struck  it 
and  broke  the  silence  in  a tone  half  indignant,  half 
apologetic — 

“ You  sent  for  me  hither  ? ” 

“ I did.  It  seemed  to  me,  as  I watched  you  during 
my  lecture,  both  before  and  after  you  were  rude  enough 
to  interrupt  me,  that  your  offense  was  one  of  mere 
youthful  ignorance.  It  seemed  to  me  that  your  coun- 
tenance bespoke  a nobler  nature  than  that  which  the 
gods  are  usually  pleased  to  bestow  upon  monks.  That 
I may  now  ascertain  whether  or  not  my  surmises  were 
correct,  I ask  you  for  what  purpose  are  you  come 
hither  ? ” 

Philammon  hailed  the  question  as  a godsend.  Now 
for  his  message ! And  yet  he  faltered,  as  he  answered, 
with  a desperate  effort — “ To  rebuke  you  for  your  sins.” 

“ My  sins  ? What  sins  ? ” she  asked,  as  she  looked 
up,  with  a stately,  slow  surprise  in  those  large  gray 
eyes,  before  which  his  own  glance  sank  abashed,  he 
knew  not  why.  What  sins  ? He  knew  not.  Did  she 
look  like  a Messalina  ? But  was  she  not  a heathen  and 
a sorceress  ? — And  yet  he  blushed,  and  stammered, 
and  hung  down  his  head,  as,  shrinking  at  the  sound  of 
his  own  words,  he  replied — 

“ The  foul  sorceries — and  profligacy  worse  than  sor- 
ceries, in  which,  they  say- ” He  could  get  no  fur- 

ther : for  he  looked  up  again  and  saw  an  awful  quiet 
smile  upon  that  face.  His  words  had  raised  no  blush 
upon  the  marble  cheek. 


208 


HYPATIA. 


“They  say!  The  bigots  and  slanderers;  wild  beasts 
of  the  desert,  and  fanatic  intriguers,  who,  in  the  words 
of  Him  they  call  their  master,  compass  heaven  and 
earth  to  make  one  proselyte,  and  when  they  have 
found  him,  make  him  twofold  more  the  child  of  hell 
than  themselves.  Go — I forgive  you : you  are  young, 
and  know  not  yet  the  mystery  of  the  world.  Science 
will  teach  you  some  day  that  the  outward  frame  is 
the  sacrament  of  the  souks  inward  beauty.  Such  a 
soul  I had  fancied  your  face  expressed;  but  I was  mis- 
taken. Foul  hearts  alone  harbor  such  foul  suspicions, 
and  fancy  others  to  be  what  they  know  they  might 

become  themselves.  Go!  Do  I look  like^ ? The 

very  tapering  of  these  fingers,  if  you  could  read  their 
symbolism,  would  give  your  dream  the  lie.”  And  she 
flashed  full  on  him,  like  sun-rays  from  a mirror,  the 
full  radiance  of  her  glorious  countenance. 

Alas,  poor  Pliilammon!  where  were  thy  eloquent 
arguments,  thy  orthodox  theories  then?  Proudly  he 
struggled  with  his  own  man’s  heart  of  flesh,  and  tried 
to  turn  his  eyes  away;  the  magnet  might  as  well 
struggle  to  escape  from  the  spell  of  the  north.  In  a 
moment,  he  knew  not  how,  utter  shame,  remorse, 
longing  for  forgiveness,  swept  over  him,  and  crushed 
him  down;  and  he  found  himself  on  his  knees  before 
her,  in  abject  and  broken  syllables  entreating  pardon. 

“Go — I forgive  you.  But  know,  before  you  go,  that 
the  celestial  milk  which  fell  from  Here’s  bosom,  bleach- 
ing the  plant  which  it  touched  to  everlasting  white- 
ness, was  not  more  taintless  than  the  soul  of  Theon’s 
daughter.” 

He  looked  up  in  her  face  as  he  knelt  before  her. 
Unerring  instinct  told  him  that  her  words  were  true. 
He  was  a monk,  accustomed  to  believe  animal  sin  to 
be  the  deadliest  and  worst  of  all  sins — indeed,  “the 


He  looked  up  in  her  face  as  he  knelt  before  her. 


14 


HYPATIA. 


211 


great  offence  ” itself,  beside  which  all  others  were  com- 
paratively venial:  where  there  was  physical  purity, 
must  not  all  other  virtues  follow  in  its  wake  ? All  other 
failing's  were  invisible  under  the  dazzling  veil  of  that 
great  loveliness:  and  in  his  self-abasement  he  went 
on — 

“Oh,  do  not  spurn  me!  do  not  drive  me  away!  I 
have  neither  friend,  home,  nor  teacher,  I fled  last  night 
from  the  men  of  my  own  faith,  maddened  by  bitter 
insult  and  injustice — disappointed  and  disgusted  with 
their  ferocity,  narrowness,  ignorance.  I dare  not,  I 
cannot,  I will  not  return  to  the  obscurity  and  the  dull- 
ness of  a Thebaid  Laura.  I have  a thousand  doubts 
to  solve,  a thousand  questions  to  ask,  about  that  great 
ancient  world  of  which  I know  nothing — of  whose 
mysteries,  they  say,  you  alone  possess  the  key ! I am 
a Christian;  but  I thirst  for  knowledge.  ...  I do  not 
promise  to  believe  you—  I do  not  promise  to  obey  you ; 
but  let  me  hear!  Teach  me  what  you  know,  that  I 
may  compare  it  with  what  I know.  ...  If  indeed” 
(and  he  shuddered  as  he  spoke  the  words)  “Ido  know 
anything ! ” 

“ Have  you  forgotten  the  epithets  which  you  used 
to  me  just  now! ” 

“No,  no!  But  do  you  forget  them;  they  were  put 
into  my  mouth.  I — I did  not  believe  them  when  I 
said  them.  It  was  agony  to  me;  but  I did  it,  as  I 
thought,  for  your  sake — to  save  you.  Oh,  say  that  I 
may  come  and  hear  you  again ! Only  from  a distance 
— in  the  very  farthest  corner  of  your  lecture-room.  I 
will  be  silent;  you  shall  never  see  me.  But  your  words 
yesterday  awoke  in  me — no,  not  doubts;  but  still  I 
must,  I must  hear  more,  or  be  as  miserable  and  home- 
less inwardly  as  I am  in  my  outward  circumstances!  ” 
And  he  looked  up  imploringly  for  consent. 


212 


HYPATIA. 


“Rise.  This  passion  and  that  attitude  are  fitting 
neither  for  you  nor  me.” 

And  as  Philammon  rose,  she  rose  also,  went  into 
the  library  to  her  father,  and  in  a few  minutes  re- 
turned with  him. 

“Come  with  me,  young  man,”  said  he,  laying  his 
hand  kindly  enough  on  Philammon ’s  shoulder.  . . . 
“The  rest  of  this  matter  you  and  I can  settle;”  and 
Philammon  followed  him,  not  daring  to  look  back  at 
Hypatia,  while  the  whole  room  swam  before  his  eyes. 

“ So,  so  I hear  you  have  been  saying  rude  things  to 
my  daughter.  Well,  she  has  forgiven  you ” 

“ Has  she  ? ” asked  the  young  monk,  with  an  eager 
start. 

“Ah ! you  may  well  look  astonished.  But  I forgive 
you  too.  It  is  lucky  for  you,  however,  that  I did  not 
hear  you,  or  else,  old  man  as  I am,  I can't  say  what  I 
might  not  have  done.  Ah ! you  little  know,  you  little 
know  what  she  is ! ” and  the  old  pedant’s  eyes  kindled 
with  loving  pride.  “May  the  gods  give  you  some  day 
such  a daughter!  that  is,  if  you  learn  to  deserve  it — 
as  virtuous  as  she  is  wise,  as  wise  as  she  is  beautiful. 
Truly  they  have  repaid  me  for  my  labors  in  their  ser- 
vice. Look ! young  man ! little  as  you  merit  it,  here 
is  a pledge  of  your  forgiveness,  such  as  the  richest  and 
noblest  in  Alexandria  are  glad  to  purchase  with  many 
an  ounce  of  gold — a ticket  of  free  admission  to  all  her 
lectures  henceforth ! How  go;  you  have  been  favored 
beyond  your  deserts,  and  should  learn  that  the  philoso- 
pher can  practise  what  the  Christian  only  preaches, 
and  return  good  for  evil!  And  he  put  into  Philam- 
mon’s  hand  a slip  of  paper,  and  bid  one  of  the  secre- 
taries show  him  to  the  outer  door. 

The  3muths  looked  up  at  him  from  their  writing  as 
he  passed,  with  faces  of  surprise  and  awe,  and  evi- 


HYPATIA. 


213 


dently  thinking’  no  more  about  the  absurdity  of  his 
sheepskin  and  his  tanned  complexion;  and  he  went  out 
with  a stunned,  confused  feeling,  as  of  one  who,  by  a 
desperate  leap,  has  plunged  into  a new  world.  He 
tried  to  feel  content;  hut  he  dare  not.  All  before  him 
was  anxiety,  uncertainty.  He  had  cut  himself  adrift; 
he  was  on  the  great  stream.  Whither  would  it  lead 
him  ? Well — was  it  not  the  great  stream  ? Had  not 
all  mankind,  for  all  the  ages,  been  floating  on  it  ? Or, 
was  it  but  a desert-river,  dwindling  away  beneath  the 
fiery  sun,  destined  to  lose  itself  a few  miles  on,  among 
the  arid  sands?  Were  Arsenius  and  the  faith  of  his 
childhood  right?  And  was  the  Old  World  coming 
speedily  to  its  death  throe,  and  the  Kingdom  of  God 
at  hand  ? Or,  was  Cyril  right,  and  the  Church  Catho- 
lic appointed  to  spread,  and  conquer,  and  destroy,  and 
rebuild,  till  the  kingdoms  of  this  world  had  become 
the  kingdoms  of  God  and  of  His  Christ  ? If  so,  what 
use  in  this  old  knowledge  which  he  craved  ? And  yet, 
if  the  day  of  the  destruction  of  all  things  were  at 
hand,  and  the  times  destined  to  become  worse  and  not 
better,  till  the  end — how  could  that  be  ? . . . 

“ What  news  ? 99  asked  the  little  porter,  who  had 
been  waiting  for  him  at  the  door  all  the  while.  “ What 
news,  O favorite  of  the  gods  ? 99 

“I  will  lodge  with  you,  and  labor  with  you.  Ask 
me  no  more  at  present.  I am — I am ” 

“ Those  who  descended  into  the  Cave  of  Trophonius, 
and  beheld  the  unspeakable,  remained  astonished  for 
three  days,  my  young  friend— and  so  will  you ! ” . And 
they  went  forth  together  to  earn  their  bread. 

But  what  is  Hypatia  doing  all  this  while,  upon  that 
cloudy  Olympus,  where  she  sits  >enshrined  far  above 
the  noise  and  struggle  of  man  and  his  work -day 
world  ? 


214 


HYPATIA. 


She  is  sitting  again,  with  her  manuscripts  open 
before  her;  but  she  is  thinking  of  the  young  monk,  not 
of  them. 

“ Beautiful  as  Antinous ! . . . Rather  as  the  young 
Phoebus  himself,  fresh  glowing  from  the  slaughter  of 
the  Python.  Why  should  not  he,  too,  become  a slayer 
of  Pythons,  and  loathsome  monsters,  bred  from  the 
mud  of  sense  and  matter  ? So  bold  and  earnest ! I 
can  forgive  him  those  words  for  the  very  fact  of  his 
having  dared,  here  in  my  father’s  house,  to  say  them 
to  me.  . . . And  yet  so  tender,  so  open  to  repentance 
and  noble  shame!  That  is  no  plebeian  by  birth;  pa- 
trician blood  surely  flows  in  those  veins;  it  shows  out 
in  every  attitude,  every  tone,  every  motion  of  the  hand 
and  lip.  He  cannot  be  one  of  the  herd.  Who  ever 
knew  one  of  them  crave  after  knowledge  for  its  own 
sake?  . . . And  I have  longed  so  for  one  real  pupil! 
I have  longed  so  to  find  one  such  man,  among  the 
effeminate  selfish  triflers  who  pretend  to  listen  to  me. 
I thought  I had  found  one — and  the  moment  that  I 
had  lost  him,  behold,  I find  another;  and  that  a 
fresher,  purer,  simpler  nature  than  ever  Raphael’s 
was  at  its  best.  By  all  the  laws  of  physiognomy — 
by  all  the  symbolism  of  gesture  and  voice  and  com- 
plexion— by  the  instinct  of  my  own  heart,  that  young 
monk  might  be  the  instrument — the  ready,  valiant, 
obedient  instrument — for  carrying  out  all  my  dreams. 
If  I could  but  train  him  into  a Longinus,  I could  dare 
to  play  the  part  of  a Zenobia,  with  him  as  counsellor. 
. . . And  for  my  Odenatus — Orestes  ? Horrible ! ” 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hand  a minute. 
“No!”  she  said,  dashing  away  the  tears — “That — 
and  anything — and  everything  for  the  cause  of  Phil- 
osophy and  the  gods ! ” 


HYPATIA. 


215 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  LAURA  AGAIN. 

Not  a sound,  not  a moving*  object,  broke  the  utter 
stillness  of  the  glen  of  Scetis.  The  shadows  of  the 
crags,  though  paling  every  moment  before  the  spread- 
ing dawn,  still  shrouded  all  the  gorge  in  gloom.  A 
winding  line  of  haze  slept  above  the  course  of  the 
rivulet.  The  plumes  of  the  palm-trees  hung  motion- 
less, as  if  awaiting  in  resignation  the  breathless  blaze 
of  the  approaching  day.  At  length,  among  the  green 
ridges  of  the  monastery  garden,  two  gray  figures  rose 
from  their  knees,  and  began  with  slow  and  feeble 
strokes  to  break  the  silence  by  the  clatter  of  their 
hoes  among  the  pebbles. 

“ These  beans  grow  wonderfully,  brother  Aufugus. 
We  shall  be  able  to  sow  our  second  crop,  by  God^s 
blessing,  a week  earlier  than  we  did  last  year.” 

The  person  addressed  returned  no  answer;  and  his 
companion,  after  watching  him  for  some  time  in  si- 
lence, recommenced — 

“ What  is  it,  my  brother  ? I have  remarked  lately 
a melancholy  about  you  which  is  hardly  fitting  for  a 
man  of  God.” 

A deep  sigh  was  the  only  answer.  The  speaker  laid 


216 


HYPATIA. 


down  his  hoe,  and  placing  his  hand  affectionately  on 
the  shoulder  of  Aufugus,  asked  again — 

“ What  is  it,  my  friend  ? I will  not  claim  with  you 
my  abbot’s  right  to  know  the  secrets  of  your  heart; 
but  surely  that  breast  hides  nothing  which  is  unworthy 
to  be  spoken  to  me,  however  unworthy  I may  be  to 
hear  it ! ” 

“ Why  should  I not  be  sad,  Pambo,  my  friend  ? Does 
not  Solomon  say  that  there  is  a time  for  mourning  ? ” 

“ True ; but  a time  for  mirth  also.” 

“None  to  the  penitent,  burdened  with  the  guilt  of 
many  sins.” 

“ Recollect  what  the  blessed  Anthon}^  used  to  say — 
‘ Trust  not  in  thine  own  righteousness,  and  regret  not 
that  which  is  past  / ” 

“ I do  neither,  Pambo.” 

“ Do  not  be  too  sure  of  that.  Is  it  not  because  thou 
art  still  trusting  in  thyself  that  thou  dost  regret  the 
past,  which  shows  thee  that  thou  art  not  that  which 
thou  wouldst  gladly  pride  thyself  on  being  ? ” 

“Pambo,  my  friend,”  said  Arsenius,  solemnly,  “I 
will  tell  thee  all.  My  sins  are  not  yet  past;  for  Ho- 
norius,  my  pupil,  still  lives,  and  in  him  lives  the  weak- 
ness and  the  misery  of  Rome.  My  sins  past  ? If  they 
are,  why  do  I see  rising  before  me,  night  after  night, 
that  train  of  accusing  spectres,  ghosts  of  men  slain  in 
battle,  widows  and  orphans,  virgins  of  the  Lord  shriek- 
ing in  the  grasp  of  barbarians,  who  stand  by  my  bed- 
side and  cry,  ‘ Hadst  thou  done  thy  duty,  we  had  not 
been  thus!  Where  is  the  imperial  charge  which  God 
committed  to  thee  ?’”...  And  the  old  man  hid  his 
face  in  his  hands  and  wept  bitterly. 

Pambo  laid  his  hand  again  tenderly  on  the  weeper’s 
shoulder. 

“Is  there  no  pride  here,  my  brother?  Who  art 


HYPATIA. 


217 


thou,  to  change  the  fate  of  nations  and  the  hearts  of 
emperors,  which  are  in  the  hand  of  the  King  of  kings  ? 
If  thou  wert  weak  and  imperfect  in  thy  work — for  un- 
faithful, I will  warrant  thou  wert  never.  He  put  thee 
there,  because  thou  wert  imperfect,  that  so  that  which 
has  come  to  pass  might  come  to  pass;  and  thou  bear- 
est  thine  own  burden  only — and  yet  not  thou,  but  He 
who  bore  it  for  thee.” 

“ Why  then  am  I tormented  by  these  nightly 
visions  ? ” 

“Fear  them  not,  friend.  They  are  spirits  of  evil, 
and  therefore  lying  spirits.  Were  they  good  spirits 
they  would  speak  to  thee  only  in  pity,  forgiveness,  en- 
couragement. But,  be  they  ghosts  or  demons,  they 
must  be  evil,  because  they  are  accusers,  like  the  Evil 
One  himself,  the  accuser  of  the  saints.  He  is  the 
father  of  lies,  and  his  children  will  be  like  himself. 
What  said  the  blessed  Anthony  ? That  a monk  should 
not  busy  his  brain  with  painting  spectres,  or  give  him- 
self up  for  lost;  but  rather  be  cheerful,  as  one  who 
knows  that  he  is  redeemed,  and  in  the  hands  of  the 
Lord,  where  the  Evil  One  has  no  power  to  hurt  him. 

‘ For/  he  used  to  say,  ‘ the  demons  behave  to  us  even  as 
they  find  us.  If  they  see  us  cast  down  and  faithless, 
they  terrify  us  still  more,  that  they  may  plunge  us 
into  despair.  But  if  they  see  us  full  of  faith,  and  joyful 
in  the  Lord,  with  our  souls  filled  with  the  glory  which 
shall  be,  then  they  shrink  abashed,  and  flee  away  in 
confusion/  Cheer  up,  friend!  such  thoughts  are  of 
the  night,  the  hour  of  Satan  and  of  the  power  of  dark- 
ness; and  with  the  dawn  they  flee  away.” 

“And  yet  things  are  revealed  to  men  upon  their 
beds,  in  visions  of  the  night.” 

“ Be  it  so.  Nothing,  at  all  events,  has  been  revealed 
to  thee  upon  thy  bed,  except  that  which  thou  knowest 


218 


HYPATIA. 


already  far  better  than  Satan  does,  namely,  that  thou 
art  a sinner.  But  for  me,  my  friend,  though  I doubt 
not  that  such  things  are,  it  is  the  day,  and  not  the 
night,  which  brings  revelations.” 

“ How,  then  ? ” 

“ Because  by  day  I can  see  to  read  that  book  which 
is  written,  like  the  Law  given  on  Sinai,  upon  tables 
of  stone,  by  the  finger  of  God  himself.” 

Arsenius  looked  up  at  him  inquiringly.  Pam  bo 
smiled. 

“ Thou  knowest  that,  like  many  holy  men  of  old,  I 
am  no  scholar,  and  knew  not  even  the  Greek  tongue, 
till  thou,  out  of  thy  brotherly  kindness,  taughtest  it 
to  me.  But  hast  thou  never  heard  what  Anthony  said 
to  a certain  Pagan  who  reproached  him  with  his  ig- 
norance of  books  ? ‘ Which  is  first,’  he  asked,  ‘ spirit 
or  letter  ? Spirit,  sayest  thou  ? Then  know,  the 
healthy  spirit  needs  no  letters.  My  book  is  the  whole 
creation,  lying’  open  before  me,  wherein  I can  read, 
whensoever  I please,  the  word  of  God.’  ” 

“ Dost  thou  not  undervalue  learning,  my  friend  ? ” 

“ I am  old  among  monks,  and  have  seen  much  of 
their  ways;  and  among  them  my  simplicity  seems  to 
have  seen  this — many  a man  wearing  himself  with 
study,  and  tormenting  his  soul  as  to  whether  he  be- 
lieved rightly  this  doctrine  and  that,  while  he  knew 
not  with  Solomon  that  in  much  learning  is  much  sor- 
row, and  that,  while  he  was  puzzling  at  the  letter  of 
God’s  message,  the  spirit  of  it  was  going  fast  and 
faster  out  of  him.” 

“And  how  didst  thou  know  that  of  such  a man  ? ” 

“ By  seeing  him  become  a more  and  more  learned 
theologian,  and  more  and  more  zealous  for  the  letter 
of  orthodoxy ; and  yet  less  and  less  loving  and  merci- 
full — less  and  less  full  of  trust  in  God,  and  of  hopeful 


HYPATIA. 


219 


thoughts  for  himself  and  for  his  brethren,  till  he  seemed 
to  have  darkened  his  whole  soul  with  disputations, 
which  breed  only  strife,  and  to  have  forgotten  utterly 
the  message  which  is  written  in  that  book  wherewith 
the  blessed  Anthony  was  content.” 

“Of  what  message  dost  thou  speak  ?” 

“Look,”  said  the  old  abbot,  stretching  his  hand 
toward  the  Eastern  desert,  “and  judge,  like  a wise 
man,  for  thyself ! ” 

As  he  spoke,  a long  arrow  of  level  light  flashed  down 
the  gorge  from  crag  to  crag,  awakening  every  crack 
and  slab  to  vividness  and  life.  The  great  crimson  sun 
rose  swiftly  through  the  dim  night-mist  of  the  desert, 
and  as  he  poured  his  glory  down  the  glen,  the  haze 
rose  in  threads  and  plumes,  and  vanished,  leaving  the 
stream  to  sparkle  round  the  rocks,  like  the  living, 
twinkling  eye  of  the  whole  scene.  Swallows  flashed 
by  hundreds  out  of  the  cliff,  and  began  their  air-dance 
for  the  day;  the  jerboa  hopped  stealthily  homeward 
on  his  stilts  from  his  stolen  meal  in  the  monastery 
garden ; the  brown  sand-lizards  underneath  the  stones 
opened  one  eyelid  each,  and  having  satisfied  them- 
selves that  it  was  day,  dragged  their  bloated  bodies 
and  whip-like  tails  out  into  the  most  burning  patch  of 
gravel  which  they  could  find,  and  nestling  together  as 
a further  protection  against  cold,  fell  fast  asleep  again; 
the  buzzard,  who  considered  himself  lord  of  the  valley, 
awoke  with  a long  querulous  bark,  and  rising  aloft  in 
two  or  three  vast  rings,  to  stretch  himself  after  his 
night's  sleep,  hung  motionless,  watching  every  lark 
which  chirruped  on  the  cliffs;  while  from  the  far  off 
Nile  below,  the  awakening  croak  of  pelicans,  the  clang 
of  geese,  the  whistle  of  the  god  wit  and  curlew,  came 
ringing  up  the  windings  of  the  glen;  and  last  of  all 
the  voices  of  the  monks  rose,  chanting  a morning 


220 


HYPATIA. 


hymn  to  some  wild  Eastern  air;  and  a new  day  liad 
begun  in  Scetis,  like  those  which  went  before,  and  those 
which  were  to  follow  after,  week  after  week,  year  after 
year,  of  toil  and  prayer  as  quiet  as  its  sleep. 

“ What  does  that  teach  thee,  Aufugus,  my  friend  ? ” 

Arsenius  was  silent. 

“ To  me  it  teaches  this : that  God  is  light,  and  in 
Him  is  no  darkness  at  all.  That  in  his  presence  is  life, 
and  fulness  of  joy  for  evermore.  That  He  is  the  giver, 
who  delights  in  His  own  bounty;  the  lover,  whose 
mercy  is  over  all  His  works — and  why  not  over  thee, 
too,  O thou  of  little  faith  ? Look  at  those  thousand 
birds — and  without  our  Father  not  one  of  them  shall 
fall  to  the  ground;  and  art  thou  not  of  more  value 
than  many  sparrows,  thou  for  whom  God  sent  His 
Son  to  die  ? . . . Ah,  my  friend,  we  must  look  out  and 
around  to  see  what  God  is  like.  It  is  when  we  persist 
in  turning  our  eyes  inward,  and  prying  curiously  over 
our  own  imperfections,  that  we  learn  to  make  a God 
after  our  own  image,  and  fancy  that  our  own  dark- 
ness and  hardness  of  heart  are  the  patterns  of  His 
light  and  love/’ 

“ Thou  speakest  rather  as  a philosopher  than  as  a 
penitent  Catholic.  For  me,  I feel  that  I want  to  look 
more,  and  not  less  inward.  Deeper  self-examination, 
completer  abstraction,  than  I can  attain  even  here, 
are  what  I crave  for.  I long — forgive  me,  my  friend 
— but  I long  more  and  more,  daily,  for  the  solitary  life. 
This  earth  is  accursed  by  man’s  sin : the  less  we  see  of 
it,  it  seems  to  me,  the  better.” 

"'I  may  speak  as  a philosopher,  or  as  a heathen,  for 
aught  I now:  yet  it  seems  to  me  that,  as  they  say, 
the  half  loaf  is  better  than  none;  that  the  wise  man 
will  make  the  best  of  what  he  has,  and  throw  away 
no  lesson  because  the  book  is  somewhat  torn  and 


HYPATIA. 


221 


soiled.  The  earth  teaches  me  thus  far  already.  Shall 
I shut  my  eyes  to  those  invisible  thing's  of  God  which 
are  clearly  manifested  by  the  things  which  are  made, 
because  some  day  they  will  be  more  clearly  manifested 
than  now  ? But  as  for  more  abstraction,  are  we  so 
worldly  here  in  Scetis  ? ” 

“ Nay,  my  friend,  each  man  has  surely  his  vocation, 
and  for  each  some  peculiar  method  of  life  is  more 
edifying  than  another.  In  my  case,  the  habits  of  mind 
which  I acquired  in  the  world  will  cling  to  me  in  spite 
of  myself  even  here.  It  cannot  help  watching  the 
doings  of  others,  studying  their  characters,  planning 
and  plotting  for  them,  trying  to  prognosticate  their 
future  fate.  Not  a word,  not  a gesture  of  this  our 
little  family,  but  turns  away  my  mind  from  the  one 
thing  needful.” 

“And  do  you  fancy  that  the  anchorite  in  his  cell  has 
fewer  distractions  ? ” 

“What  can  he  have  but  the  supply  of  the  mere 
necessary  wants  of  life  ? And  them,  even,  he  may 
abridge  to  the  gathering  of  a few  roots  and  herbs. 
Men  have  lived  like  the  beasts  already,  that  they 
might  at  the  same  time  live  like  the  angels — and  why 
should  not  I also  ? ” 

“And  thou  art  the  wise  man  of  the  world — the  stu- 
dent of  the  hearts  of  others — the  anatomizer  of  thine 
own  ? Hast  thou  not  found  out  that,  besides  a crav- 
ing stomach,  man  carries  with  him  a corrupt  heart  ? 
Many  a man  I have  seen  who,  in  his  haste  to  fly  from 
the  fiends  without  him,  has  forgotten  to  close  the  door 
of  his  heart  against  worse  fiends  who  were  ready  to 
harbor  within  him.  Many  a monk,  friend,  changes  his 
place,  but  not  the  anguish  of  his  soul.  I have  known 
those  who,  driven  to  feed  on  their  own  thoughts  in 
solitude,  have  desperately  cast  themselves  from  cliffs, 


222 


HYPATIA. 


or  ripped  up  their  own  bodies,  in  the  longing  to  escape 
from  thoughts,  from  which  one  companion,  one  kindly 
voice,  might  have  delivered  them.  I have  known  those, 
too,  who  have  been  so  puffed  up  by  those  very  penances 
which  were  meant  to  humble  them,  that  they  have 
despised  all  means  of  grace,  as  though  they  were  al- 
ready perfect,  and  refusing  even  the  Holy  Eucharist, 
have  lived  in  self-glorying  dreams  and  visions  sug- 
gested by  the  evil  spirits.  One  such  I knew,  who,  in 
the  madness  of  his  pride,  refused  to  be  counselled  by 
any  mortal  man — saying  that  he  would  call  no  man 
master : and  what  befell  him  ? He  who  used  to  pride 
himself  on  wandering  a day’s  journey  into  the  desert 
without  food  or  drink,  who  boasted  that  he  could  sus- 
tain life  for  three  months  at  a time  only  on  wild  herbs 
and  the  Blessed  Bread,  seized  with  an  inward  fire,  fled 
from  his  cell  back  to  the  theatres,  the  circus,  and  the 
taverns,  and  ended  his  miserable  days  in  desperate 
gluttony,  holding  all  things  to  be  but  phantasms,  de- 
nying his  own  existence,  and  that  of  God  himself.” 

Arsenius  shook  his  head. 

“Be  it  so.  But  my  case  is  different.  I have  yet 
more  to  confess,  my  friend.  Day  by  day  I am  more 
and  more  haunted  by  the  remembrance  of  the  world 
from  which  I fled.  I know  that  if  I returned  I should 
feel  no  pleasure  in  those  pomps,  which,  even  when  I 
fattened  on  them,  I despised.  Can  I hear  any  more 
the  voice  of  singing  men  and  singing  women;  or  dis- 
cern any  longer  what  I eat  or  what  I drink  ? And  yet 
— the  palaces  of  those  seven  hills,  their  statesmen  and 
their  generals,  their  intrigues,  their  falls,  and  their 
triumphs — for  they  might  rise  and  conquer  yet!  for 
no  moment  are  they  out  of  my  imagination — no  mo- 
ment in  which  they  are  not  tempting  me  back  to  them, 
like  a moth  to  the  candle  which  has  already  scorched 


HYPATIA. 


223 


him,  with  a dreadful  spell,  which  I must  at  last  obey, 
wretch  that  I am,  against  my  own  will,  or  break  by 
fleeing  into  some  outer  desert,  from  whence  return  will 
be  impossible! ” 

Pambo  smiled. 

“ Again  I say,  this  is  the  worldly-wise  man,  the 
searcher  of  hearts ! And  he  would  fain  flee  from  the 
little  Laura,  which  does  turn  his  thoughts  at  times 
from  such  vain  dreams,  to  a solitude  where  he  will  be 
utterly  unable  to  escape  those  dreams.  Well,  friend! 
— and  what  if  thou  art  troubled  at  times  by  anxieties 
and  schemes  for  this  brother  and  for  that  ? Better  to 
be  anxious  for  others  than  only  for  thyself.  Better  to 
have  something  to  love — even  something  to  weep  over 
— than  to  become  in  some  lonely  cavern  thine  own 
world — perhaps,  as  more  than  one  whom  I have  known, 
thine  own  God.” 

“ Do  you  know  what  you  are  saying  ? ” asked  Ar- 
senius,  in  a startled  tone. 

“ I say,  that  by  fleeing  into  solitude  a man  cuts  him- 
self off  from  all  which  makes  a Christian  man;  from 
law,  obedience,  fellow-help,  self-sacrifice  — from  the 
communion  of  saints  itself.” 

“ How  then  ? ” 

“ How  canst  thou  hold  communion  with  those  toward 
whom  thou  canst  show  no  love  ? And  how  canst  thou 
show  thy  love  but  by  works  of  love  ? ” 

“ I can,  at  least,  pray  day  and  night  for  all  man- 
kind. Has  that  no  place — or  rather,  has  it  not  the 
mightiest  place — in  the  communion  of  saints  ? ” 

“ He  who  cannot  pray  for  his  brothers  whom  he  does 
see,  and  whose  sins  and  temptations  he  knows,  will 
pray  but  dully,  my  friend  Aufugus,  for  his  brothers 
whom  he  does  not  see,  or  for  anything  else.  And  he 
who  will  not  labor  for  his  brothers,  the  same  will  soon 


224 


HYPATIA. 


cease  to  pray  for  them,  or  love  them  either.  And 
then,  what  is  written  ? * If  a man  love  not  his  brother 
whom  he  hath  seen,  how  will  be  love  God  whom  he 
hath  not  seen  ? 9 33 

“Again,  I say,  do  you  know  whither  your  argument 
leads  ? ” 

“ I am  a plain  man,  and  know  nothing  about  argu- 
ments. If  a thing  be  true,  let  it  lead  where  it  will,  for 
it  leads  where  God  wills.” 

“ But  at  this  rate,  it  were  better  for  a man  to  take  a 
wife,  and  have  children,  and  mix  himself  up  in  all  the 
turmoil  of  carnal  affections,  in  order  to  have  as  many 
as  possible  to  love,  and  fear  for,  and  work  for.” 

Pambo  was  silent  for  awhile. 

“ I am  a monk  and  no  logician.  But  this  I say,  that 
thou  leavest  not  the  Laura  for  the  desert  with  my 
good  will.  I would  rather,  had  I my  wish,  see  thy 
wisdom  installed  somewhere  nearer  the  metropolis  at 
Troe  or  Canopus,  for  example — where  thou  mightest 
be  at  hand  to  fight  the  Lord’s  battles.  Why  wert 
thou  taught  wordly  wisdom,  but  to  use  it  for  the  good 
of  the  Church  ? It  is  enough.  Let  us  go.” 

And  the  two  old  men  walked  homeward  across  the 
valley,  little  guessing  the  practical  answer  which  was 
ready  for  their  argument  in  Abbot  Pambo’s  cell,  in  the 
shape  of  a tall  and  grim  ecclesiastic,  who  was  busily 
satisfying  his  hunger  with  dates  and  millet,  and  by 
no  means  refusing  the  palm  wine,  the  sole  delicacy  of 
the  monastery,  which  had  been  brought  forth  only  in 
honor  of  a guest. 

The  stately  and  courteous  hospitality  of  Eastern 
manners,  as  well  as  the  self-restraining  kindness  of 
monastic  Christianity,  forbade  the  abbot  to  interrupt 
the  stranger;  and  it  was  not  till  he  had  finished  a 
hearty  meal  that  Pambo  asked  his  name  and  errand. 


HYPATIA. 


225 


“My  unworthiness  is  called  Peter  the  Reader.  I 
come  from  Cyril,  with  letters  and  messages  to  the 
brother  Aufugus.” 

Pambo  rose,  and  bowed  reverentially. 

“We  have  heard  your  good  report,  sir,  as  of  one 
zealously  affected  in  the  cause  of  the  Church  Catholic. 
Will  it  please  you  to  follow  us  to  the  cell  of  Aufugus  ? ” 
Peter  stalked  after  them  with  a sufficiently  impor- 
tant air  to  the  little  hut,  and  there  taking  from  his 
bosom  CyriFs  epistle,  handed  it  to  Arsenius,  who  sat 
long,  reading  and  re-reading  with  a clouded  brow, 
while  Pambo  watched  him  with  simple  awe,  not  dar- 
ing to  interrupt  by  a question  lucubrations  which  he 
considered  of  unfathomable  depth. 

“ These  are  indeed  the  last  days,”  said  Arsenius  at 
length,  “ spoken  of  by  the  prophet,  when  man}7  shall 
run  to  and  fro.  So  Heraclian  has  actually  sailed  for 
Italy  ? ” 

“ His  armament  was  met  on  the  high  seas  by  Alex- 
andrian merchantmen,  three  weeks  ago.” 

“And  Orestes  hardens  his  heart  more  and  more  ? ” 
“Ay,  Pharaoh  that  he  is;  or  rather,  the  heathen 
woman  hardens  it  for  him.” 

“ I always  feared  that  woman  above  all  the  schools 
of  the  heathen,”  said  Arsenius.  “ But  the  Count  Hera- 
clian, whom  I always  held  for  the  wisest  as  well  as  the 
most  righteous  of  men!  Alas — alas!  what  virtue  will 
withstand,  when  ambition  enters  the  heart ! ” 

“ Fearful,  truly,”  said  Peter,  “ is  that  same  lust  of 
power;  but  for  him,  I have  never  trusted  him  since  he 
began  to  be  indulgent  to  those  Donatists.” 

“ Too  true.  So  does  one  sin  beget  another.” 

“And  I consider  that  indulgence  to  sinners  is  the 
worst  of  all  sins  whatsoever.”  4 

“Not  of  all,  surely,  reverend  sir?”  said  Pambo, 
*5 


226 


HYPATIA. 


humbly.  But  Peter,  taking*  no  notice  of  the  interrup- 
tion, went  on  to  Arsenius 

"And  now,  what  answer  am  I to  bear  back  from 
your  wisdom  to  his  holiness  ? ” 

" Let  me  see — let  me  see.  He  might — it  needs  con- 
sideration— I ought  to  know  more  of  the  state  of 
parties.  He  has,  of  course,  communicated  with  the 
African  bishops,  and  tried  to  unite  them  with  him  ? ” 

" Two  months  ago.  But  the  stiff-necked  schismatics 
are  still  jealous  of  him  and  hold  aloof/’ 

" Schismatics  is  too  harsh  a term,  my  friend.  But 
has  he  sent  to  Constantinople  ? ” 

"He  needs  a messenger  accustomed  to  courts.  It 
was  possible,  he  thought,  that  your  experience  might 
undertake  the  mission.” 

"Me?  Who  am  I ? Alas!  alas!  fresh  temptation 
daily!  Let  him  send  by  the  hand  of  whom  he  will.  . . . 
And  yet — were  I — at  least  in  Alexandria — I might  ad- 
vise from  day  to  day.  ...  I should  certainly  see  my 
way  clearer.  . . . And  unforeseen  chances  might  arise, 
too.  . . . Pambo,  my  friend,  thinkest  thou  that  it  would 
be  sinful  to  obey  the  holy  patriarch  ? ” 

"Aha ! ” said  Pambo,  laughing,  " and  thou  art  he 
who  was  for  fleeing  into  the  desert  an  hour  agone! 
And  now,  when  once  thou  smellest  the  battle  afar  off, 
thou  art  pawing  in  the  valley,  like  the  old  war-horse. 
Go,  and  God  be  with  thee!  Thou  wilt  be  none  the 
worse  for  it.  Thou  art  too  old  to  fall  in  love,  too  poor 
to  buy  a bishopric,  and  too  righteous  to  have  one  given 
thee.” 

"Art  thou  in  earnest  ? ” 

"What  did  I say  to  thee  in  the  garden?  Go,  and 
see  our  son,  and  send  me  news  of  him.” 

"Ah!  shame  on  my  worldly-mindedness!  Iliad  for- 
gotten all  this  time  to  inquire  for  him.  How  is  the 
youth,  reverend  sir  ? ” 


HYPATIA. 


227 


“ Whom  do  you  mean  ? ” 

“Philammon,  our  spiritual  son,  whom  we  sent  down 
to  you  three  months  ago,”  said  Pambo.  “Risen  to 
honor  he  is,  by  this  time,  I doubt  not  ? ” 

“ He  ? He  is  gone ! ” 

“ Gone  ? ” 

“Ay,  the  wretch,  with  the  curse  of  Judas  on  him. 
He  had  not  been  with  us  three  days  before  he  beat  me 
openly  in  the  patriarch’s  court,  cast  off  the  Christian 
faith,  and  fled  away  to  the  heathen  woman,  Hypatia, 
of  whom  he  is  enamored.” 

The  two  old  men  looked  at  each  other  with  blank 
and  horror-stricken  faces. 

“ Enamored  of  Hypatia ! ” said  Arsenius,  at  last. 

“It  is  impossible!”  sobbed  Pambo.  “The  boy  must 
have  been  treated  harshly,  unjustly!  Some  one  has 
wronged  him,  and  he  was  accustomed  only  to  kind- 
ness, and  could  not  bear  it.  Cruel  men  that  you  are, 
and  unfaithful  stewards.  The  Lord  will  require  the 
child’s  blood  at  your  hands! ” 

“Ay,”  said  Peter,  rising  fiercely,  “that  is  the  world’s 
justice!  Blame  me,  blame  the  patriarch,  blame  any 
and  every  one  but  the  sinner.  As  if  a hot  head  and  a 
hotter  heart  were  not  enough  to  explain  it  all ! As  if 
a young  fool  had  never  before  been  bewitched  by  a 
fair  face  ! ” 

“ Oh,  my  friends,  my  friends,”  cried  Arsenius,  “ why 
revile  each  other  without  cause  ? I,  I only  am  to 
blame.  I advised  you,  Pambo!  I sent  him — I ought 
to  have  known — what  was  I doing,  old  worldling  that 
I am,  to  thrust  the  poor  innocent  forth  into  the  tempta- 
tions of  Babylon.  This  comes  of  all  my  schemings 
and  my  plottings!  And  now  his  blood  will  be  on  my 
head — as  if  I had  not  sins  enough  to  bear  already,  I 
must  go  and  add  this  over  and  above  all,  to  sell  my 


228 


HYPATIA. 


own  Joseph,  the  son  of  my  old  age,  to  the  Midianites! 
Here,  I will  go  with  you — now — at  once — I will  not 
rest  till  I find  him,  clasp  his  knees  till  he  pities  my 
gray  hairs!  Let  Heraclian  and  Orestes  go  their  way 
for  aught  I care — I will  find  him,  I say.  O Absalom, 
my  son,  would  to  God  I had  died  for  thee,  my  son! 
my  son ! ” 


HYPATIA. 


229 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  BOWER  OF  ACRASIA. 

The  house  which  Pelagia  and  the  Amal  had  hired 
after  their  return  to  Alexandria,  was  one  of  the  most 
splendid  in  the  city.  They  had  been  now  living'  there 
three  months  or  more,  and  in  that  time  Pelagia’s  taste 
had  supplied  the  little  which  it  needed  to  convert  it 
into  a paradise  of  lazy  luxury.  She  herself  was 
wealthy;  and  her  Gothic  guests,  overburdened  with 
Roman  spoils,  the  very  use  of  which  they  could  not 
understand,  freely  allowed  her  and  her  nymphs  to 
throw  away  for  them  the  treasures  which  they  had 
won  in  many  a fearful  fight.  What  matter?  If  they 
had  enough  to  eat,  and  more  than  enough  to  drink, 
how  could  the  useless  surplus  of  their  riches  be  better 
spent  than  in  keeping  their  ladies  in  good  humor  ? . . . 
And  when  it  was  all  gone  . . . they  would  go  some- 
where or  other — who  cared  whither  ? — and  win  more. 
The  whole  world  was  before  them  waiting  to  be  plun- 
dered, and  they  would  fulfd  their  mission,  whensoever 
it  suited  them.  In  the  mean  time  they  were  in  no 
hurry.  Egypt  furnished  in  profusion  every  sort  of 
food  which  could  gratify  palates  far  more  nice  than 
theirs.  And  as  for  wine— few  of  them  went  to  bed 
sober  from  one  week’s  end  to  another.  Could  the 
souls  of  warriors  have  more,  even  in  the  halls  of 
Valhalla  ? 

So  thought  the  party  who  occupied  the  inner  court 
of  the  house,  one  blazing  afternoon  in  the  same  week 


230 


HYPATIA. 


in  which  Cyril's  messenger  had  so  rudely  broken  in  on 
the  repose  of  the  Scetis. 

Their  repose,  at  least,  was  still  untouched.  The 
great  city  roared  without;  Orestes  plotted,  and  Cyril 
counterplotted,  and  the  fate  of  a continent  hung,  or 
seemed  to  hang,  trembling  in  the  balance;  but  the 
turmoil  of  it  no  more  troubled  those  lazy  Titans  within 
than  did  the  roll  and  rattle  of  the  carriage  wheels  dis- 
turb the  parakeets  and  sunbirds  which  peopled,  under 
an  awning  of  gilded  wire,  the  inner  court  of  Pelagia's 
house.  Why  should  they  fret  themselves  with  it  at 
all ! What  was  every  fresh  riot,  execution,  conspiracy, 
bankruptcy,  but  a sign  that  the  fruit  was  growing 
ripe  for  the  plucking  ? Even  Heraclian's  rebellion,  and 
Orestes'  suspected  conspiracy,  were  to  the  younger 
and  coarser  Goths  a sort  of  child's  play,  at  which  they 
could  look  on  and  laugh,  and  bet,  from  morning  till 
night;  while  to  the  more  cunning  heads,  such  as  Wulf 
and  Smid,  they  were  but  signs  of  the  general  rotten- 
ness— new  cracks  in  those  great  walls  over  which  they 
intended,  with  a simple  and  boyish  consciousness  of 
power,  to  mount  to  victory  when  they  chose. 

And  in  the  mean  time,  till  the  right  opening  offered, 
what  was  there  better  than  to  eat,  drink,  and  sleep  ? 
And  certainly  they  had  chosen  a charming  retreat  in 
which  to  fulfil  that  lofty  mission.  Columns  of  purple 
and  green  porphyry,  among  which  gleamed  the  white 
limbs  of  delicate  statues,  surrounded  a basin  of  water, 
fed  by  a perpetual  jet,  which  sprinkled  with  cool  spray 
the  leaves  of  oranges  and  the  mimosas,  mingling  its 
murmurs  with  the  warblings  of  the  tropic  birds  who 
nestled  among  the  branches. 

On  one  side  of  the  fountain,  under  the  shade  of  a 
broad-leaved  palmetto,  lay  the  Amal's  mighty  limbs, 
stretched  out  on  cushions,  his  yellow  hair  crowned 


HYPATIA. 


231 


with  vine-leaves,  his  hand  grasping*  a golden  cup, 
which  had  been  won  from  Indian  Rajahs  by  Parthian 
Chosroos,  from  Chosroos  by  Roman  generals,  from 
Roman  generals  by  the  heroes  of  sheepskin  and  horse- 
hide;  while  Pelagia,  by  the  side  of  the  sleepy  Hercules- 
Dionysos,  lay  leaning  over  the  brink  of  the  fountain, 
lazily  dipping  her  fingers  into  the  water,  and  basking. 


On  one  side  of  the  fountain,  under  the  shade  of  a broad-leaved  palmetto,  lay 
the  Amal’s  mighty  limbs. 

like  the  gnats  which  hovered  over  its  surface,  in  the 
mere  pleasure  of  existence. 

On  the  opposite  brink  of  the  basin,  tended  each  by 
a dark -eyed  Hebe,  who  filled  the  wine-cups,  and  helped 
now  and  then  to  empty  them,  lay  the  especial  friends 
and  companions  in  arms  of  the  Amal,  Goderic  the  son 
of  Ermenric,  and  Agilmund  the  son  of  Cniva,  who 
both,  like  the  Amal,  boasted  a descent  from  the  gods; 
and  last,  but  not  least,  that  most  important  and  all 
but  sacred  personage,  Smid,  the  son  of  Troll,  rever- 


232 


HYPATIA. 


enced  for  cunning'  beyond  the  sons  of  men;  for  not 
only  could  he  make  and  mend  all  matters,  from  a pon- 
toon bridg'e  to  a g-old  bracelet,  shoe  horses  and  doctor 
them,  charm  all  diseases  out  of  man  and  beast,  carve 
runes,  interpret  war-omens,  foretell  weather,  raise  the 
winds,  and,  finally,  conquer  in  the  battle  of  mead 
horns  all  except  Wulf  the  son  of  Ovida;  but  he  had 
actually,  during1  a sojourn  among*  the  half-civilized 
Msesogotlis,  picked  up  a fair  share  of  Latin  and  Greek, 
and  a rough  knowledge  of  reading  and  writing. 

A few  yards  off  lay  old  Wulf  upon  his  back,  his 
knees  in  the  air,  his  hands  crossed  behind  his  head, 
keeping  up,  even  in  his  sleep,  a half-conscious  com- 
ment of  growls  on  the  following  intellectual  conversa- 
tion : 

“ Noble  wine  this,  is  it  not  ? ” 

“ Perfect.  Who  bought  it  for  us  ? ” 

“ Old  Miriam  bought  it  at  some  great  tax-farmer’s 
sale.  The  fellow  was  bankrupt,  and  Miriam  said  she 
got  it  for  the  half  what  it  was  worth.” 

“ Serve  the  penny-turning  rascal  right.  The  old 
vixen-fox  took  care.  I’ll  warrant  her,  to  get  her  profit 
out  of  the  bargain.” 

“Never  mind  if  she  did.  We  can  afford  to  pay  like 
men,  if  we  earn  like  men.” 

“We  shan’t  afford  it  long  at  this  rate,”  growled 
Wulf. 

“ Then  we’ll  go  and  earn  more.  I am  tired  of  doing 
nothing.” 

“ People  need  not  do  nothing  unless  they  choose,” 
said  Goderic.  “ Wulf  and  I had  coursing  fit  for  a king, 
the  other  morning  on  the  sandhills.  I had  had  no  ap- 
petite for  a week  before,  and  I have  been  as  sharp  set 
ns  a Danube  pike  ever  since.” 

“ Coursing  ? What,  with  those  long-legged  brush- 


HYPATIA. 


233 


tailed  brutes,  like  a fox  upon  stilts,  which  the  prefect 
cozened  you  into  buying-  ? ” 

“All  I can  say  is,  that  we  put  up  a herd  of  those — 
what  do  they  call  them  here — deer  with  goat’s  horns  ? ” 
“Antelopes.” 

“ That’s  it — and  the  curs  ran  into  them  as  a falcon 
does  into  a skein  of  ducks.  Wulf  and  I galloped  and 
galloped  over  these  accursed  sandheaps  till  the  horses 
stuck  fast;  and  when  they  got  their  wind  again,  we 
found  each  pair  of  dogs  with  a deer  down  between 
them — and  what  can  a man  want  more,  if  he  cannot 
get  fighting?  You  ate  them,  so  you  need  not  sneer.” 
“Well,  dogs  are  the  only  things  worth  having,  then, 
that  this  Alexandria  does  produce.” 

“Except  fair  ladies!”  put  in  one  of  the  girls. 

“ Of  course.  I’ll  except  the  women.  But  the  men ” 

“ The  what  ? I have  not  seen  a man  since  I came 
here,  except  a dock-worker  or  two — priests  and  fine 
gentlemen  they  are  all — and  you  don’t  call  them  men, 
surely  ? ” 

“ What  on  earth  do  they  do,  beside  riding  donkeys  ? ” 
“ Philosophize,  they  say.” 

“What’s  that?” 

“I’m  sure  I don’t  know;  some  sort  of  slave’s  quill- 
driving, I suppose.” 

“Pelagia!  do  you  know  what  philosophizing  is?” 
“No — and  I don’t  care.” 

“I  do,”  quoth  Agilmund,  with  a look  of  superior  wis- 
dom; “ I saw  a philosopher  the  other  day.” 

“And  what  sort  of  thing  was  it  ? ” 

“ I’ll  tell  you.  I was  walking  down  the  great  street, 
there,  going  to  the  harbor;  and  I saw  a crowd  of  boys, 
men  they  call  them  here — going  into  a large  doorway. 
So  I asked  one  of  them  what  was  doing,  and  the  fellow, 
instead  of  answering  me,  pointed  at  my  legs,  and  set 


234 


HYPATIA. 


all  the  other  monkeys  laughing.  So  I boxed  his  ears, 
and  he  tumbled  down.” 

“ They  all  do  so  here,  if  you  box  their  ears,”  said 
the  Amal,  meditatively,  as  if  he  had  hit  upon  a great 
inductive  law. 

“Ah,”  said  Pelagia,  looking  up  with  her  most  win- 
ning smile,  “they  are  not  such  giants  as  you,  who 
make  a poor  little  woman  feel  like  a gazelle  in  the 
lion’s  paw ! ” 

“Well — it  struck  me  that,  as  I spoke  in  Gothic,  the 
boy  might  not  have  understood  me,  being  a Greek. 
So  I walked  in  at  the  door,  to  save  questions,  and  see 
for  myself.  And  there  a fellow  held  out  his  hand — I 
suppose  for  money.  So  I gave  him  two  or  three  gold 
pieces,  and  a box  on  the  ear,  at  which  he  tumbled 
down  of  course,  but  seemed  very  well  satisfied.  So  I 
walked  in.” 

“And  what  did  you  see  ? ” 

“A  great  hall,  large  enough  for  a thousand  heroes, 
full  of  these  Egyptian  rascals  scribbling  with  pencils 
on  tablets.  And  at  the  farther  end  of  it  the  most 
beautiful  woman  I ever  saw — with  right  fair  hair  and 
blue  eyes,  talking,  talking — I could  not  understand  it ; 
— but  the  donkey-riders  seemed  to  think  it  very  fine; 
for  they  went  on  looking  first  at  her,  and  then  at  their 
tablets,  gaping  like  frogs  in  drouth.  And,  certainly, 
she  looked  as  fair  as  the  sun,  and  talked  like  an  Alruna- 
wife.  Not  that  I knew  what  it  was  about,  but  one  can 
see  somehow,  you  know.  So  I fell  asleep;  and  when 
I woke,  and  came  out,  I met  some  one  who  understood 
me,  and  he  told  me  that  it  was  the  famous  maiden,  the 
great  philosopher.  And  that’s  what  I know  about 
philosophy.” 

“She  was  very  much  wasted,  then,  on  such  soft- 
handed  starvelings.  Why  don’t  she  marry  some  hero  ? ” 


HYPATIA. 


235 


“ Because  there  are  none  here  to  marry,”  said  Pela- 
gia; “ except  some  who  are  fast  netted,  I fancy,  al- 
ready.” 

“ But  what  do  they  talk  about,  and  tell  people  to  do, 
these  philosophers,  Pelagia  ? ” 

“ Oh,  they  don’t  tell  any  one  to.  do  anything — at 
least,  if  they  do  nobody  ever  does  it,  as  far  as  I can 
see ; but  they  talk  about  suns  and  stars,  and  right  and 
wrong,  and  ghosts  and  spirits,  and  that  sort  of  thing; 
and  about  not  enjoying  one’s  self  too  much.  Not  that 
I ever  saw  that  they  were  any  happier  than  any  one 
else.” 

“ She  must  have  been  an  Alruna-maiden,”  said  Wulf, 
half  to  himself. 

“ She  is  a very  conceited  creature,  and  I hate  her,” 
said  Pelagia. 

“I  believe  you,”  said  Wulf. 

“ What  is  an  Alruna-maiden  ? ” asked  one  of  the 
girls. 

“ Something  as  like  you  as  a salmon  is  like  a horse- 
leech. Heroes,  will  you  hear  a saga  ? ” 

“If  it  is  a cool  one,”  said  Agilmund;  “about  ice,  and 
pine-trees,  and  snowstorms.  I shall  be  roasted  brown 
in  three  days  more.” 

“Oh,”  said  the  Amal,  “that  we  were  on  the  Alps 
again  for  only  two  hours,  sliding  down  those  snow 
slopes  on  our  shields,  with  the  sleet  whistling  about 
our  ears ! That  was  sport ! ” 

“ To  those  who  could  keep  their  seat,”  said  Goderic. 
“ Who  went  head  over  heels  into  a glacier  crack,  and 
was  dug  out  of  fifty  feet  of  snowyand  had  to  be  put 
inside  a fresh-killed  horse  before  he  could  be  brought 
to  life  ? ” 

“ Not  you,  surely,”  said  Pelagia.  “ Oh,  you  wonder- 
ful creature ! what  things  you  have  done  and  suffered ! ” 


236 


HYPATIA. 


“ W ell,”  said  the  Amal,  with  a look  of  stolid  self- 
satisfaction,  “ I suppose  I have  seen  a good  deal  in  my 
time,  eh  ? ” 

“Yes,  my  Hercules,  you  may  have  gone  through 
your  twelve  labors,  and  saved  your  poor  little  Hesione 
after  them  all,  when  she  was  chained  to  the  rock,  for 
the  ugly  sea-monsters  to  eat;  and  she  will  cherish  you, 
and  keep  you  out  of  scrapes  now,  for  her  own  sake,” 
and  Pelagia  threw  her  arms  around  the  g’reat  bull- 
neck,  and  drew  it  down  to  her. 

“Will  you  hear  my  saga  ? ” said  Wulf,  impatiently. 

“Of  course  we  will,”  said  the  Amal;  “anything  to 
pass  the  time.” 

“ But  let  it  be  about  snow,”  said  Agilmund. 

“Not  about  Alruna-wives ? ” 

“About  them,  too,”  said  Goderic;  “my  mother  was 
one,  so  I must  needs  stand  up  for  them.” 

“She  was,  boy.  Do  you  be  her  son!  Now  hear, 
W olves  of  the  Goths ! ” 

And  the  old  man  took  up  his  little  lute,  or,  as  he 
would  probably  have  called  it,  “ fidel,”  and  began 
chanting,  to  his  own  accompaniment : 

Over  the  camp  fires 
Drank  I with  heroes, 

Under  the  Donau  bank 
Warm  in  the  snow-trench, 

Sagamen  heard  I there, 

Men  of  the  Longbeards, 

Cunning  and  ancient, 

Honey-sweet- voiced. 

Scaring  the  wolf-cubs, 

Scaring  the  horn-owl  out, 

Shaking  the  snow-wreaths 
Down  from  the  pine-boughs, 

Up  to  the  star-roof 
Rang  out  their  song. 


HYPATIA. 


237 


Singing  how  Winil  men 
Over  the  icefloes 
Sledging  from  Scanland  on 
Game  unto  Scoring; 

Singing  of  Gambara 
Freya’s  beloved. 

Mother  of  Ayo, 

Mother  of  Ibor. 

Singing  of  Wendel  men, 

Ambri  and  Assi ; 

How  to  the  Wind-folk 
Went  they  with  war-words — 

“ Few  are  ye,  strangers, 

And  many  are  we ; 

Pay  us  now  toll  and  fee, 

Cloth  yarn,  and  rings,  and  beeves ; 
Else  at  the  raven’s  meal 
Bide  the  sharp  bill’s  doom.” 

Clutching  the  dwarf’s  work  then, 
Clutching  the  bullock’s  shell, 
Girding  gray  iron  on, 

Forth  fared  the  Winds  all, 

Fared  the  Alruna’s  sons, 

Ayo  and  Ibor. 

Mad  of  heart  stalked  they : 

Loud  wept  the  women  all, 

Loud  the  Alruna-wife ; 

Sore  was  their  need. 

Out  of  the  morning  land, 

Over  the  snowdrifts, 

Beautiful  Freya  came, 

Tripping  to  Scoring. 

White  were  the  moorlands, 

And  frozen  before  her ; 

But  green  were  the  moorlands, 
And  blooming  behind  her 
Out  of  her  golden  locks 
Shaking  the  spring  flowers, 

Out  of  her  garments 
Shaking  the  south  wind, 


238 


HYPATIA. 


Around  in  the  birches 
Awaking  the  throstles, 

And  making  chaste  housewives  all 
Long  for  their  heroes  home. 

Loving  and  love-giving, 

Came  she  to  Scoring. 

Came  unto  Gambara, 

Wisest  of  Yalas — 

“ Vala,  why  weepest  thou? 

Far  in  the  wide  blue, 

High  up  in  the  Elfin  home, 

Heard  I thy  weeping.” 

“ Stop  not  my  weeping, 

Till  one  can  fight  seven, 

Sons  have  I,  heroes  tall, 

First  in  the  sword-play; 

This  day  at  the  Wendel’s  hands 
Eagles  must  tear  them ; 

While  their  mothers,  thrall-weary 
Must  grind  for  the  Wendels.” 

Wept  the  Alruna-wife; 

Kissed  her  fair  Freya — 

“ Far  off  in  the  morning  land 
High  in  Valhalla, 

A window  stands  open, 

Its  sill  is  the  snow-peaks, 

Its  posts  are  the  water-spouts 
Storm-racked  its  lintel, 

Gold  cloud-flakes  above  it 
Are  piled  for  the  roofing. 

Far  up  to  the  Elfin-home, 

High  in  the  wide-blue 
Smiles  out  each  morning  thence 
Odin  Allfather : 

From  under  the  cloud-eaves, 

Smiles  out  on  the  heroes, 

Smiles  out  on  chaste  housewives  all 
Smiles  on  the  brood  mares 
Smiles  on  the  smith’s  work : 


HYPATIA. 


239 


And  theirs  is  the  sword-luck 
With  them  is  the  glory — 

So  Odin  hath  sworn  it — 

Who  first  in  the  morning 
Shall  meet  him  and  greet  him.” 


Still  the  Alruna  wept — 
Who  then  shall  greet  him? 
Women  alone  are  here : 
Far  on  the  moorlands 
Behind  the  war-lindens, 

In  vain  for  the  bill’s  doom 
Watch  Winil  heroes  all, 
One  against  seven.” 


Sweetly  the  Queen  laughed — 

“ Hear  thou  my  counsel  now ; 
Take  to  thee  cunning, 

Beloved  of  Freya, 

Take  thou  thy  women-folk, 
Maidens  and  wives : 

Over  your  ankles 

Lace  on  the  white  war-hose ; 

Over  your  bosoms  mailnets; 

Link  up  the  hair 

Over  your  lips 

Plait  long  tresses  with  cunning ; 
So  war-beasts  full-bearded 
King  Odin  shall  deem  you, 
When  off  the  gray  sea-beach 
At  sunrise  ye  greet  him.” 

Kight’s  son  was  driving 
His  golden-haired  horses  up ; 
Over  the  Eastern  firths 
High  flashed  their  manes. 

Smiled  from  the  cloud-eaves  out 
Allfather  Odin, 

Waiting  the  battle-sport: 

Freya  stood  by  him. 


240 


HYPATIA. 


“ Who  are  these  heroes  tall — 

Lusty-limbed  Longbeards  ? 

Over  the  swans’  bath 
Why  cry  they  to  me  ? 

Bones  should  be  crashing  fast, 

Wolves  should  be  full-fed, 

Where’er  such,  mad-hearted, 

Swing  hands  in  the  sword-play.” 

Sweetly  laughed  Freya — 

“ A name  thou  hast  given  them 
Shames  neither  thee  or  them, 

Well  can  they  wear  it. 

Give  them  the  victory, 

First  have  they  greeted  thee 
Give  them  the  victory, 

Yokefellow  mine ! 

Maidens  and  wives  are  these — 

Wives  of  the  Winils; 

Few  are  their  heroes 
And  far  on  the  war-road 
So  over  the  swans’  bath 
They  cry  unto  thee.” 

Royally  laughed  he  then ; 

Dear,  was  that  craft  to  him, 

Odin  Allfather, 

Shaking  the  clouds : 

“ Cunning  are  women  all 
Bold  and  importunate ! 

Longbeards  their  name  shall  be 
Ravens  shall  thank  them : 

Where  the  women  are  heroes, 

What  must  the  men  be  like  ? 

Theirs  is  the  victory ; 

No  need  of  me ! ” * 

“ There \”  said  Wulf,  when  the  song-  was  ended;  “is 
that  cool  enough  for  you  ? ” 

*This  punning  legend  may  be  seen  in  Paul  Warnefrid’s 
“ Gesta  Langobardorum.  ” The  metre  and  language  are  in- 
tended as  imitations  of  those  of  the  earlier  Eddaic  poems. 


HYPATIA. 


241 


“ Rather  too  cool ; eh,  Pelagia  ? ” said  the  Amal, 
laughing. 

“Ay,”  went  on  the  old  man,  bitterly  enough,  “ such 
were  your  mothers;  and  such  were  your  sisters;  and 
such  your  wives  must  be,  if  you  intend  to  last  much 
longer  on  the  face  of  the  earth — women  who  care  for 
something-  better  than  g-ood  eating-,  strong  drinking, 
and  soft  lying.” 

“All  very  true,  Prince  Wulf,”  said  Agilmund,  “but 
I don’t  like  the  saga  after  all.  It  was  a great  deal  too 
like  what  Pelagia  here  says  those  philosophers  talk 
about — right  and  wrong,  and  that  sort  of  thing.” 

“I  don’t  doubt  it.” 

“Now  I like  a really  good  saga,  about  gods  and 
giants,  and  the  fire  kingdoms  and  the  snow  kingdoms, 
and  the  JE1  sir  making  men  and  women  out  of  two 
sticks,  and  all  that.” 

“Ay,”  said  the  Amal,  “ something  like  nothing  one 
ever  saw  in  one’s  life,  all  stark  mad  and  topsy-turvy, 
like  one’s  dreams  when  one  has  been  drunk;  some- 
thing grand  which  you  cannot  understand,  but  which 
sets  you  thinking  over  it  all  the  morning  after.” 

“Well,”  said  Goderic,  “my  mother  was  an  Alruna- 
woman,  so  I will  not  be  the  bird  to  foul  its  own  nest. 
But  I like  to  hear  about  wild  beasts  and  ghosts,  ogres 
and  firedrakes,  and  nicors — something  that  one  could 
kill  if  one  had  a chance,  as  one’s  fathers  had.” 

“Your  fathers  would  never  have  killed  nicors,”  said 
W ulf,  “ if  they  had  been ■” 

“ Like  us — I know,”  said  the  Amal.  “ Now  tell  me,, 
prince,  you  are  old  enough  to  be  our  father;  and  did 
you  ever  see  a nicor  ? ” 

“My  brother  saw  one,  in  the  Northern  sea,  three 
fathoms  long,  with  the  body  of  a bison-bull,  and  the 
head  of  a cat,  and  the  beard  of  a man,  and  tusks  an 
16 


242 


HYPATIA. 


ell  long,  lying  down  on  its  breast,  watching  for  the 
fishermen ; and  he  struck  it  with  an  arrow,  so  that  it 
fled  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  and  never  came  up 
again/" 

“ What  is  a nicor,  Agilmund  ? ""  asked  one  of  the  girls. 

“A  sea-devil  who  eats  sailors.  There  used  to  be 
plenty  of  them  where  our  fathers  came  from,  and 
ogres  too,  who  came  out  of  the  fens  into  the  hall  at 
night,  when  the  warriors  were  sleeping,  to  suck  their 
blood,  and  steal  along,  and  steal  along,  and  jump  upon 
you — so ! "" 

Pelagia,  during  the  saga,  had  remained  looking  into 
the  fountain,  and  playing  with  the  water-drops,  in  as- 
sumed indifference.  Perhaps  it  was  to  hide  burning 
blushes,  and  something  very  like  two  hot  tears,  which 
fell  unobserved  into  the  ripple.  Now  she  looked  up 
suddenly — 

“And  of  course  you  have  killed  some  of  these  dread- 
ful creatures,  Amalric  ? "" 

“I  never  had  such  good  luck,  darling.  Our  fore- 
fathers were  in  such  a hurry  with  them,  that  by  the 
time  we  were  born,  there  was  hardly  one  left/" 

“Ay,  they  were  men,""  growled  Wulf. 

“As  for  me,""  went  on  the  Amal,  “ the  biggest  thing 
I ever  killed  was  a snake  in  the  Donau  fens.  How 
long  was  he,  prince?  You  had  time  to  see,  for  you 
sat  eating  your  dinner  and  looking  on,  while  he  was 
trying  to  crack  my  bones."" 

“Four  fathoms,""  answered  Wulf. 

“With  a wild  bull  lying  by  him,  which  he  had  just 
killed.  I spoilt  his  dinner,  eh,  Wulf  ? "" 

“Yes,""  said  the  old  grumbler,  mollified,  “that  was  a 
right  good  fight."" 

“ Why  don"t  you  make  a saga  about  it,  then,  instead 
of  about  right  and  wrong,  and  such  things  ? "" 


HYPATIA. 


243 


“ Because  I am  turned  philosopher.  I shall  go  and 
hear  that  Alruna-maiden  this  afternoon.” 

“Well  said.  Let  us  go  too,  young  men;  it  will  pass 
the  time,  at  all  events.” 

“ Oh,  no ! no ! no ! do  not ! you  shall  not ! ” almost 
shrieked  Pelagia. 

“ Why  not,  then,  pretty  one  ? ” 

“ She  is  a witch — she — I will  never  love  you  again  if 
you  dare  to  go.  Your  only  reason  is  that  Agilmund’s 
report  of  her  beauty.” 

“ So  ? You  are  afraid  of  my  liking  her  golden  locks 
better  than  your  black  ones  ? ” 

“ I ? Afraid  ? ” And  she  leapt  up,  panting  with  pretty 
rage.  “ Come,  we  will  go  too — at  once — and  brave 
this  nun,  who  fancies  herself  too  wise  to  speak  to  a 
woman,  and  too  pure  to  love  a man ! Look  out  my 
jewels!  Saddle  my  white  mule!  We  will  go  royally. 
We  will  not  be  ashamed  of  Cupid’s  livery,  my  girls — 
saffron  shawl  and  all!  Come,  let  us  see  whether  saucy 
Aphrodite  is  not  a match  after  all  for  Pallas  Athene 
and  her  owl ! ” 

And  she  darted  out  of  the  cloister. 

The  three  younger  men  burst  into  a roar  of  laugh- 
ter, while  Wulf  looked  with  grim  approval. 

“ So  you  want  to  go  and  hear  the  philosopher, 
prince?”  said  Smid. 

“ Wheresoever  a holy  and  a wise  woman  speaks,  a 
warrior  need  not  be  ashamed  of  listening.  Did  not 
Alaric  bid  us  spare  the  nuns  in  Rome,  comrade  ? And 
although  I am  no  Christian  as  he  was,  I thought  it  no 
shame  for  Odin’s  man  to  take  their  blessing;  nor  will 
I to  take  this  one’s,  Smid,  son  of  Troll.” 


244 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  ABYSS. 

“Here  am  I,  at  last!”  said  Raphael  Aben-Ezra  to 
himself.  “ Fairly  and  safely  landed  at  the  very  bot- 
tom of  the  bottomless;  disporting  myself  on  the  firm 
floor  of  the  primeval  nothing,  and  finding  my  new  ele- 
ment, like  bo3rs  when  they  begin  to  swim,  not  so  im- 
practicable after  all.  No  man,  angel,  or  demon  can 
this  day  cast  in  my  teeth  that  I am  weak  enough  to 
believe,  or  disbelieve,  any  phenomenon  or  theory  in  or 
concerning  heaven  or  earth;  or  even  that  any  such 
heaven,  earth,  phenomena,  or  theories  exist — or  other- 
wise. ...  I trust  that  is  a sufficiently  exhaustive 
statement  of  my  opinions  ? ...  I am  certainly  not 
dogmatic  enough  to  deny — or  to  assert  either — that 
there  are  sensations  . . . far  too  numerous  for  com- 
fort . . . but  as  for  proceeding  any  further,  by  induc- 
tion, deduction,  analysis,  or  synthesis,  I utterly  decline 
the  office  of  Arachne,  and  will  spin  no  more  cobwebs 
out  of  my  own  inside — if  I have  any.  Sensations  ? 
What  are  they,  but  parts  of  one’s  self — if  one  has  a self! 
What  put  this  child’s  fancy  into  one’s  head,  that  there 
is  anything  outside  of  one  which  produces  them  ? You 
have  exactly  similar  feelings  in  your  dreams,  and  you 
know  that  there  is  no  reality  corresponding  to  them 
— No,  you  don’t!  How  dare  you  be  dogmatic  enough 
to  affirm  that  ? Why  should  not  your  dreams  be  the 
reality,  and  your  waking  thoughts  the  dream  ? What 
matter  which  ? 


HYPATIA. 


245 


“ What  matter,  indeed  ? Here  have  I been  staring* 
for  years — unless  that,  too,  is  a dream,  which  it  very 
probably  is — at  every  mountebank  ‘ism'  which  ever 
tumbled  and  capered  on  the  philosophic  tight-rope; 
and  they  are  every  one  of  them  dead  dolls,  wooden, 
worked  with  wires,  which  are  petitiones  principii. 

. . . Each  philosopher  begs  the  question  in  hand,  and 
then  marches  forward,  as  brave  as  a triumph,  and 
prides  himself — on  proving  it  all  afterward.  No  won- 
der that  his  theory  fits  the  universe,  when  he  has  first 
clipped  the  universe  to  fit  his  theory.  Have  I not 
tried  my  hand  at  many  a one — starting,  too,  no  one 
can  deny,  with  the  very  minimum  of  clipping,  . . . for 
I suppose  one  cannot  begin  lower  than  at  simple  ‘I 
am  I ' . . . unless — which  is  equally  demonstrable — at 
‘ I am  not  1/  I recollect — or  dream — that  I offered 
that  sweet  dream,  Hypatia,  to  deduce  all  things  in 
Heaven  and  earth,  from  the  Astronomies  of  Hippar- 
chus to  the  number  of  plumes  in  an  archangel's  wing, 
from  that  one  simple  proposition,  if  she  would  but 
write  me  out  a demonstration  of  it  first,  as  some  sort 
of  7zou  <jto)  for  the  apex  of  my  inverted  pyramid.  But 
she  disdained  . . . people  are  apt  to  disdain  what  they 
know  they  cannot  do.  . . . ‘It  was  an  axiom,'  it  was 
‘ like  one  and  one  making  two ' . . . . How  cross  the 
sweet  dream  was,  at  my  telling  her  that  I did  not 
consider  that  any  axiom  either,  and  that  one  thing 
and  one  thing  seeming  to  us  to  be  two  things,  was  no 
more  proof  that  they  really  were  two,  and  not  three 
hundred  and  sixty-five,  than  a man  seeming  to  be  an 
honest  man  proved  him  not  to  be  a rogue;  and  at  my 
asking  her,  moreover,  when  she  appealed  to  universal 
experience,  how  she  proved  that  the  combined  folly  of 
all  fools  resulted  in  wisdom ! 

“ ‘ I am  I ' an  axiom,  indeed ! What  right  have  I to 


246 


HYPATIA. 


say  that  I am  not  any  one  else  ? How  do  I know  it  ? 
How  do  I know  that  there  is  any  one  else  for  me  not 
to  be  ? I,  or  rather  something’,  feel  a number  of  sensa- 
tions, longings,  thoughts,  fancies — the  great  devil  take 
them  all — fresh  ones  every  moment,  and  each  at  war, 
tooth  and  nail,  with  all  the  rest;  and  then,  on  the 
strength  of  this  infinite  multiplicity  and  contraction, 
of  which  alone  I am  awrare,  I am  to  be  illogical  enough 
to  stand  up  and  say,  ‘ I by  myself  I ’ ; and  swear 
stoutly  that  I am  one  thing,  when  all  I am  conscious 
of  is  the  devil  only  knows  how  many  things.  Of  all 
quaint  deductions  from  experience,  that  is  the  quaint- 
est! Would  it  not  be  more  philosophical  to  conclude 
that  I,  who  never  saw  or  felt  or  heard  this  which  I 
call  myself,  and  what  I have  seen,  heard,  and  felt — 
and  no  more  and  no  less — that  sensation  which  I call 
that  horse,  that  dead  man,  that  jackass,  those  forty 
thousand  two-legged  jackasses  who  appear  to  be  run- 
ning for  their  lives  below  there,  having  got  hold  of 
this  same  notion  of  their  being  one  thing  each — as  I 
choose  to  fancy  in  my  foolish  habit  of  imputing  to 
them  the  same  disease  of  thought  which  I find  in  my- 
self— crucify  the  word ! The  folly  of  my  ancestors — if 
I ever  had  any — prevents  n^  having  any  better  ex- 
pression. . . . Why  should  I not  be  all  I feel — that 
sky,  those  clouds  — the  whole  universe?  Hercules! 
what  a creative  genius  my  sensorium  must  be!  HI 
take  to  writing  poetry — a mock  epic,  in  seventy -two 
books,  entitled,  ‘The  Universe;  or,  Raphael  Aben- 
Ezra’;  and  take  Homer’s  Margites  for  my  model. 
Homer’s?  Mine!  Why  must  not  the  Margites,  like 
everything  else,  have  been  a sensation  of  my  own  ? 
Hypatia  used  to  say  Homer’s  poetry  was  a part  of 
her  . . . only  she  could  not  prove  it  . . . but  I have 
proved  that  the  Margites  is  a part  of  me  . . . not  that 


HYPATIA. 


247 


I believe  my  own  proof— skepticism  forbid ! Oh,  would 
to  heaven  that  the  said  whole  disagreeable  universe 
were  annihilated,  if  it  were  only  just  to  settle  by  fair 
experiment  whether  any  of  master  f I * remained  when 
they  were  gone!  Buzzard  and  dogmatist!  And  how 
do  you  know  that  that  would  settle  it  ? And  if  it  did 
— why  need  it  be  settled  ? . . . 

“ I dare  say  there  is  an  answer  pat  for  all  this.  I 
could  write  a pretty  one  myself  in  half  an  hour.  But 
then  I should  not  believe  it  . . . nor  the  rejoinder  to 
that  . . . nor  the  demurrer  to  that  again.  . . . So  . . . 
I am  both  sleepy  and  hungry  ...  or,  rather,  sleepi- 
ness and  hunger  are  me.  Which  is  it  ? Heigh-ho  . . . ” 
and  Raphael  finished  his  meditation  by  a mighty  yawn. 

This  hopeful  oration  was  delivered  in  a fitting  lec- 
ture-room. Between  the  bare  walls  of  a doleful  fire- 
scarred  tower  in  the  Campagna  of  Rome,  standing  upon 
a knoll  of  dry  brown  grass,  fringed  with  a few  grim 
pines,  blasted  and  black  with  smoke;  there  sat  Raphael 
Aben-Ezra,  working  out  the  last  formula  of  the  great 
world  problem — “ Given  Self : to  find  God.”  Through 
the  doorless  stone  archway  he  could  see  a long  vista 
of  the  plain  below,  covered  with  broken  trees,  trampled 
crops,  smoking  villas,  and  all  the  ugly  scars  of  recent 
war,  far  onward  to  the  quiet  purple  mountains  and 
the  silver  sea,  toward  which  struggled,  far  in  the  dis- 
tance, long  dark  lines  of  moving  specks,  flowing  to- 
gether, breaking  up,  stopping  short,  recoiling  back,  to 
surge  forward  by  some  fresh  channel,  while  now  and 
then  a glitter  of  keen  white  sparks  ran  through  the 
dense  black  masses.  . . . The  Count  of  Africa  had 
thrown  for  the  empire  of  the  world — and  lost. 

“ Brave  old  Sun!”  said  Raphael,  “ how  merrily  he 
flashes  off  the  sword  blades  yonder,  and  never  cares 
that  every  tiny  sparkle  brings  a death-shriek  after  it  ? 


248 


HYPATIA. 


Why  should  he!  It  is  no  concern  of  his.  Astrologers 
are  fools.  His  business  is  to  shine ; and,  on  the  whole, 
he  is  one  of  my  few  satisfactory  sensations.  How 
now  ? This  is  questionably  pleasant ! ” 

As  he  spoke,  a column  of  troops  came  marching* 
across  the  field,  straight  toward  the  retreat. 

“ If  these  new  sensations  of  mine  find  me  here,  they 
will  infallibly  produce  in  me  a new  sensation,  which 
will  render  all  further  ones  impossible.  . . . Well? 
what  kinder  thing  could  they  do  for  me  ? . . . Ay — 
but  how  do  I know  that  they  would  do  it  ? What 
possible  proof  is  there  that  if  a two-legged  phantasm 
pokes  a hard  iron-gray  phantasm  in  among  my  sensa- 
tions, those  sensations  will  be  my  last  ? Is  the  fact  of 
my  turning  pale,  and  lying  still  and  being  in  a day  or 
two  converted  into  crow’s  flesh,  any  reason  why  I 
should  not  feel  ? And  how  do  I know  that  would  hap- 
pen ? It  seems  to  happen  to  certain  sensations  of  my 
eyeball — or  something  else — who  cares  ? which  I call 
soldiers;  but  what  possible  analogy  can  there  be  be- 
tween what  seems  to  happen  to  those  single  sensations 
called  soldiers,  and  what  may  or  may  not  really  hap- 
pen to  all  my  sensations  put  together,  which  I call 
me  ? Should  I bear  apples  if  a phantasm  seemed  to 
come  and  plant  me  ? Then  why  should  I die  if  another 
phantasm  seemed  to  come  and  poke  me  in  the  ribs  ? 

“ Still  I don’t  intend  to  deny  it.  ...  I am  no  dog- 
matist. Positively  the  phantasms  are  marching 
straight  for  my  tower!  Well,  it  may  be  safer  to  run 
away  on  the  chance.  But  as  for  losing  feeling,”  con- 
tinued he,  rising  and  cramming  a few  moldy  crusts 
into  his  wallet,  “that,  like  everything  else,  is  past, 
proof.  Why — if  now,  when  I have  some  sort  of  excuse 
for  fancying  myself  one  thing  in  one  place,  I am  driven 
mad  with  the  number  of  my  sensations,  what  will  it 


HYPATIA. 


249 


be  when  I am  eaten,  and  turned  to  dust,  and  undeni- 
ably many  thing's  in  many  places.  ...  Will  not  the 
sensations  be  multiplied  by  — unbearable!  I would 
swear  at  the  thoug-ht,  if  I had  anything  to  swear  by ! 
To  be  transmuted  into  the  sensoria  of  forty  different 
nasty  carrion  crows,  besides  two  or  three  foxes,  and  a 
large  black  beetle!  I’ll  run  away,  just  like  anybody 
else  ...  if  anybody  existed.  Come,  Bran ! ” 
****** 

“ Bran ! where  are  you ; unlucky  inseparable  sensa- 
tion of  mine  ? Picking  up  a dinner  already  off  those 
dead  soldiers?  Well,  the  pity  is  that  this  foolish  con- 
tradictory taste  of  mine,  while  it  makes  me  hungry, 
forbids  me  to  follow  your  example.  Why  am  I to  take 
lessons  from  my  soldier  phantasms,  and  not  from  my 
canine  one  ? Blogical ! Bran ! Bran ! ” and  he  went 
out  and  whistled  in  vain  for  the  dog. 

“ Bran ! unhappy  phantom,  who  will  not  vanish  by 
night  or  day,  lying  on  my  chest  even  in  dreams;  and 
who  would  not  even  let  me  vanish,  and  solve  the 
problem — though  I don't  believe  there  is  any — why  did 
you  drag  me  out  of  the  sea  there  at  Ostia  ? Why  did 
you  not  let  me  become  a whole  shoal  of  crabs  ? How 
did  you  know,  or  I either,  that  they  may  not  be  very 
jolly  fellows,  and  not  in  the  least  troubled  with  philoso- 
phic doubts  ? . . . But  perhaps  there  were  no  crabs, 
but  only  phantasms  of  crabs.  . . . And,  on  the  other 
hand,  if  the  crab-phantasms  give  jolly  sensations,  why 
should  not  the  crow  phantasms  ? So,  whichever  way 
it  turns  out,  no  matter;  and  I may  as  well  wait  here, 
and  seem  to  become  crows,  as  I certainly  shall  do. 
Bran ! . . . Why  should  I wait  for  her  ? What  plea- 
sure can  it  be  to  me  to  have  the  feeling  of  a four-legged, 
brindled,  lop-eared,  toad-mouthed  thing  always  be- 
tween what  seems  to  be  my  legs  ? There  she  is ! 


250 


HYPATIA. 


Where  have  3^ou  been,  madam  ? Don't  you  see  I am 
in  marching-  order,  with  staff  and  wallet  ready  shoul- 
dered ? Come  ? " 

But  the  dog,  looking  up  in  his  face  as  only  dogs  can 
look,  ran  toward  the  back  of  the  ruin,  and  up  to  him 
again,  and  back  again,  until  he  followed  her. 

“ What's  'this  ? Here  is  a new  sensation  with  a 
vengeance!  Oh,  storm  and  cloud  of  material  appear- 
ances, were  there  not  enough  of  you  already,  that  you 
must  add  to  your  number  these  also  ? Bran ! Bran ! 
Could  you  find  no  other  day  in  the  year  but  this, 
whereon  to  present  my  ears  with  the  squeals  of — one 
— two — three — nine  blind  puppies?" 

Bran  answered  by  rushing  into  the  hole  where  her 
new  family  lay  tumbling  and  squalling,  bringing  out 
one  in  her  mouth,  and  laying  it  at  his  feet. 

“Needless,  I assure  you.  I am  perfectly  aware  of 
the  state  of  the  case  already.  What!  another?  Silly 
old  thing!  do  you  fancy,  as  the  fine  ladies  do,  that 
burdening  the  world  with  noisy  likenesses  of  your 
precious  self  is  a thing  of  which  to  be  proud  ? Why, 
she's  bringing  out  the  whole  litter!  . . . What  was  I 
thinking  of  last  ? A the  argument  was  self-con- 

tradictory was  it,  because  I could  not  argue  without 
using  the  very  terms  which  I repudiated.  Well.  . . . 
And — why  should  it  not  be  contradictory  ? Why  not  ? 
One  must  face  that  too,  after  all.  Why  should  not  a 
thing  be  true,  and  false  also  ? What  harm  in  a thing’s 
being  false  ? What  necessity  for  it  to  be  true  ? True  ? 
What  is  truth  ? Why  should  a thing  be  the  worse  for 
being  illogical?  Why  should  there  be  any  logic  at 
all?  Did  I ever  see  a little  beast  flying  about  with 
‘ Logic ' labelled  on  its  back  ? What  do  I know  of  it, 
but  as  a sensation  of  my  own  mind — if  I have  any  ? 
What  proof  is  that  that  I am  to  obey  it,  and  not  it 


‘Do  you  fancy  . . . that  burdening  the  world  with  noisy  likenesses  of  your 
precious  self  is  a thing  of  which  to  be  proud  ? ” 


HYPATIA. 


253 


me  ? If  a flea  bites  me,  I get  rid  of  that  sensation ; 
and  if  logic  bothers  me,  I’ll  get  rid  of  that  too.  Phan- 
tasms must  be  taught  to  vanish  courteously.  One’s 
only  hope  of  comfort  lies  in  kicking  feebly  against  the 
tyranny  of  one’s  own  boring  notions  and  sensations — 
every  philosopher  confesses  that — and  what  god  is 
logic,  pray,  that  it  is  to  be  the  sole  exception  ? . . . 
What,  old  lady  ? I give  you  fair  warning,  you  must 
choose  this  day,  like  any  nun,  between  the  ties  of  fam- 
ily and  those  of  duty.” 

Bran  seized  him  by  the  skirt,  and  pulled  him  down 
toward  the  puppies;  took  up  one  of  the  puppies  and 
lifted  it  toward  him;  and  then  repeated  the  action 
with  another. 

“ You  unconscionable  old  brute!  You  don’t  actually 
dare  to  expect  me  to  carry  your  puppies  for  you?” 
and  he  turned  to  go. 

Bran  sat  down  on  her  tail,  and  began  howling. 

“ Farewell,  old  dog!  you  have  been  a pleasant  dream 
after  all.  . . . But  if  you  will  go  the  way  of  all  phan- 
tasms ”.  . . . And  he  walked  away. 

Bran  ran  with  him,  leaping  and  barking;  then  recol- 
lected her  family  and  ran  back ; tried  to  bring  them, 
one  by  one,  in  her  mouth,  and  then  to  bring  them  all 
at  once;  and  failing  sat  down  and  howled. 

“ Come  Bran ! Come,  old  girl ! ” 

She  raced  half-way  up  to  him;  then  half-way  back 
again  to  the  puppies;  then  toward  him  again:  and 
then  suddenly  gave  it  up,  and,  dropping  her  tail, 
walked  slowly  back  to  the  blind  suppliants,  with  a 
deep  reproachful  growl. 

“*  * * * *!”  said  Raphael,  with  a mighty  oath; 
“you. are  right  after  all!  Here  are  nine  things  come 
into  the  world;  phantasms  or  not,  there  it  is,  I can’t 
deny  it.  They  are  something,  and  you  are  something. 


254 


HYPATIA. 


old  dog ; or  at  least  like  enough  to  something  to  do 
instead  of  it;  and  you  are  not  I,  and  as  good  as  I,  and 
they  too,  for  aught  I know,  and  have  as  good  a right 
to  live  as  I;  and  by  the  seven  planets  and  all  the  rest 
of  it.  I’ll  carry  them ! ” 

And  he  went  back,  tied  up  the  puppies  in  his  blanket, 
and  set  forth,  Bran  harking,  squeaking,  wagging,  leap- 
ing, running  between  his  legs  and  upsetting  him,  in 
her  agonies  of  joy. 

"Forward!  Whither  you  will,  old  lady!  The  world 
is  wide.  You  shall  be  my  guide,  tutor,  queen  of  philoso- 
phy, for  the  sake  of  this  mere  common  sense  of  yours. 
Forward,  you  new  Hypatia!  I promise  you  I will  at- 
tend no  lectures  but  yours  this  day ! ” 

He  toiled  on,  every  now  and  then  stepping  across  a 
dead  body,  or  clambering  a wall  out  of  the  road,  to 
avoid  some  plunging,  shrieking  horse,  or  obscene  knot 
of  prowling  camp-followers,  who  were  already  strip- 
ping and  plundering  the  slain.  . . . At  last,  in  front 
of  a large  villa,  now  a black  and  smoking  skeleton,  he 
leaped  a wall  and  found  himself  landed  on  a heap  of 
corpses.  . . . They  were  piled  up  against  the  garden 
fence  for  many  yards.  The  struggle  had  been  fierce 
there  some  three  hours  before. 

"Put  me  out  of  my  misery!  In  mercy  kill  me!” 
moaned  a voice  beneath  his  feet. 

Raphael  looked  down;  the  poor  wretch  was  slashed 
and  mutilated  beyond  all  hope. 

" Certainly,  friend,  if  you  wish  it,”  and  he  drew  his 
dagger.  The  poor  fellow  stretched  out  his  throat,  and 
awaited  the  stroke  with  a ghastly  smile.  Raphael 
caught  his  eye : his  heart  failed  him,  and  he  rose. 

"What  do  you  advise,  Bran?”  But  the  dog  was 
far  ahead,  leaping  and  barking  impatiently. 

" I obey,”  said  Raphael ; and  he  followed  her,  while 


HYPATIA. 


255 


the  wounded  man  called  piteously  and  upbraidingly 
after  him. 

“ He  will  not  have  long  to  wait.  Those  plunderers 
will  not  he  as  squeamish  as  I.  . . . Strange,  now! 
From  Armenian  reminiscences  I should  have  fancied 
myself  as  free  from  such  tender  weakness  as  any  of 
my  Canaanite-slaying  ancestors.  . . . And  yet  by 
some  mere  spirit  of  contradiction  I couldn’t  kill  that 
fellow  exactly,  because  he  asked  me  to  do  it.  . . . There 
is  more  in  that  than  will  fit  into  the  great  inverted 
pyramid  of  'I  am  I.’  . . . Never  mind,  let  me  get  the 
dog’s  lesson  by  heart  first.  What  next,  Bran  ? Ah! 
Could  one  believe  the  transformation  ? Why  this  is 
the  very  trim  villa  which  I passed  yesterday  morning, 
with  the  garden-chairs  standing  among  the  flower- 
beds, just  as  the  young  ladies  had  left  them,  and  the 
peacocks  and  silver  pheasants  running  about,  wonder- 
ing why  their  pretty  mistresses  did  not  come  to  feed 
them.  And  here  is  a trampled  mass  of  wreck  and  cor- 
ruption for  the  girls  to  find,  when  they  venture  back 
from  Rome,  and  complain  how  horrible  war  is  for 
breaking  down  all  their  shrubs,  and  how  cruel  soldiers 
must  be  to  kill  and  cook  all  their  poor  dear  tame 
turtle-doves!  Why  not?  Why  should  they  lament 
over  other  things — which  they  can  just  as  little  mend 
— and  which  perhaps  need  no  more  mending?  Ah! 
there  lies  a gallant  fellow  underneath  that  fruit-tree!  ” 

Raphael  walked  up  to  a ring  of  dead,  in  the  midst 
of  which  lay,  half  sitting  against  the  trunk  of  the  tree, 
a tall  and  noble  officer,  in  the  first  bloom  of  manhood. 
His  casque  and  armor,  gorgeously  inlaid  with  gold, 
were  hewn  and  battered  by  a hundred  blows;  his  shield 
was  cloven  through  and  through;  his  sword  broken  in 
the  stiffened  hand  which  grasped  it  still.  Cut  off  from 
his  troop,  he  had  made  his  last  stand  beneath  the  tree, 


256 


HYPATIA. 


knee-deep  in  the  gay  summer  flowers,  and  there  he 
lay,  bestrewn,  as  if  by  some  mockery — or  pity — of 
mother  nature,  with  faded  roses  and  golden  fruit, 
shaken  from  off  the  houghs  in  that  last  deadly  strug- 
gle. Raphael  stood  and  watched  him  with  a sad  sneer. 

“ W ell ! you  have  sold  your  fancied  personality 
dear!  How  many  dead  men  ? . . . Nine.  . . . Eleven! 
Conceited  fellow!  Who  told  you  that  your  one  life 
was  worth  the  eleven  which  you  have  taken  ? ” 

Bran  went  up  to  the  corpse — perhaps  from  its  sitting 
posture  fancying  it  still  living — smelt  the  cold  cheek, 
and  recoiled  with  a mournful  whine. 

“ Eh  ? That  is  the  right  way  to  look  at  the  phenom- 
ena, is  it?  Well,  after  all,  I am  sorry  for  you  . . . 
almost  like  you.  . . . All  your  wounds  in  front,  as 
man’s  should  he.  Poor  fop ! Lais  and  Thais  will  never 
curl  those  dainty  ringlets  for  you  again!  What  is 
that  bas-relief  upon  your  shield?  Venus  receiving 
Psyche  into  the  abode  of  the  gods!  . . . Ah!  you  have 
found  out  all  about  Psyche’s  wings  by  this  time.  . . . 
How  do  I know  that  ? And  yet,  why  am  I,  in  spite  of 
my  common  sense — if  I have  any — talking  to  you  as 
you,  and  liking  you,  and  pitying  you,  if  you  are  nothing 
now,  and  probably  never  were  anything  ? Bran ! 

What  right  had  you  to  pity  him  without  giving  youv 
reasons  in  due  form,  as  Hypatia  would  have  clone? 
Forgive  me,  sir,  however — whether  you  exist  or  not,  I 
cannot  leave  that  collar  round  your  neck  for  these 
camp-wolves  to  convert  into  strong  liquor.” 

And  as  he  spoke,  he  bent  down,  and  detached,  gently 
enough,  a magnificent  necklace. 

“Not  for  myself,  I assure  you.  Like  Ate’s  golden 
apple  it  shall  go  to  the  fairest.  Here,  Bran ! ” 

And  he  wreathed  the  jewels  round  the  neck  of  the 
mastiff,  who,  evidently  exalted  in  her  own  eyes  by  her 


HYPATIA. 


257 


burden,  leaped  and  barked  forward,  again  taking  ap- 
parently, as  a matter  of  course,  the  road  back  toward 
Ostia,  by  which  they  had  come  thither  from  the  sea. 
And  as  he  followed,  careless  where  he  went,  he  con- 
tinued, talking  to  himself  aloud,  after  the  manner  of 
restless,  self-discontented  men.  . . . “And  then  man 
talks  big  about  his  dignitty  and  his  intellect,  and  his 
heavenly  parentage,  and  his  aspirations  after  the  un- 
seen and  the  beautiful,  and  the  infinite — and  every- 
thing else  unlike  himself.  How  can  he  prove  it  ? 
Why,  these  poor  blackguards  lying  about  are  very 
fair  specimens  of  humanity.  And  how  much  have 
they  been  bothered  since  they  were  born  with  aspira- 
tion after  anything  infinite,  except  infinite  sour  wine  ? 
To  eat,  to  drink,  to  destroy  a certain  number  of  their 
species;  to  reproduce  a certain  number  of  the  same, 
two-thirds  of  whom  will  die  in  infancy,  a dead  waste 
of  pain  to  their  mothers  and  of  expense  to  their  puta- 
tive sires  . . . and  then— what  says  Solomon  ? What 
befalls  them  befalls  beasts.  As  one  dies,  so  dies  the 
other;  so  that  they  have  all  one  breath,  and  a man 
has  no  pre-eminence  over  a beast;  for  all  is  vanity* 
All  go  to  one  place;  all  are  of  the  dust,  and  turn  to 
dust  again.  Who  knows  that  the  breath  of  man  goes 
upward,  and  that  the  breath  of  the  beast  goes  down- 
ward to  the  earth  ? Who,  indeed,  my  most  wise  ances- 
tor? Not  I,  certainly.  Raphael  Aben-Ezra,  how  art 
thou  better  than  a beast  ? What  pre-eminence  hast 
thou,  not  merely  over  tnis  dog,  but  over  the  fleas  whom 
thou  so  wantonly  cursest  ? Man  must  painfully  win 
house,  clothes,  fire.  ...  A pretty  proof  of  his  wisdom, 
when  every  flea  has  the  wit  to  make  my  blanket,  with- 
out any  labor  of  his  own,  lodge  him  a great  deal  better 
than  it  lodges  me!  Man  makes  clothes,  and  the  fleas 
live  in  them.  . . . Which  is  the  wiser  of  the  two  ? . . v 
i7 


258 


HYPATIA. 


“Ah,  but — man  is  fallen.  . . . Well — and  the  flea  is 
not.  So  much  better  he  than  the  man;  for  he  is  what 
he  was  intended  to  be,  and  so  fulfils  the  very  defini- 
tion of  virtue  . . . which  no  one  can  say  of  us  of  the 
red-ochre  vein.  And  even  if  the  old  myth  be  true,  and 
the  man  only  fell,  because  he  was  set  to  do  higher 
work  than  the  flea;  what  does  that  prove — hut  that 
-he  could  not  do  it  ? 

“ But  his  arts  and  his  sciences  ? . . . Apage ! The 
very  sound  of  those  grown  children's  rattles  turns  me 
sick.  . . . One  conceited  ass  in  a generation  increasing 
labor  and  sorrow,  and  dying  after  all  even  as  the  fool 
dies,  and  ten  million  brutes  and  slaves,  just  where 
their  forefathers  were,  and  where  their  children  will 
he  after  them,  to  the  end  of  the  farce.  . . . The  thing 
that  has  been,  it  is  that  which  shall  he;  and  there  is 
no  new  thing  under  the  sun.  . . . 

“And  as  for  your  palaces,  and  cities,  and  temples 
..  . . look  at  this  Campagna,  and  judge.  Flea-bites  go 
down  after  awhile — and  so  do  they.  What  are  they 
hut  the  bumps  which  we  human  fleas  make  in  the  old 
-earth's  skin  ? . . . Make  them  ? We  only  cause  them, 
as  fleas  cause  flea-bites.  . . . What  are  all  the  works 
of  man,  hut  a sort  of  cutaneous  disorder  in  this  un- 
healthy earth-hide,  and  we  a race  of  larger  fleas,  run- 
ning about  among  its  fur,  which  we  call  trees  ? Why 
should  not  the  earth  be  an  animal  ? How  do  I know 
it  is  not  ? Because  it  is  too  big  ? Bah!  What  is  big 
and  what  is  little?  Because  it  has  not  the  shape  of 
one  ? . . . Look  into  a fisherman's  net,  and  see  what 
forms  are  there ! Because  it  does  not  speak  ? . . . 
Perhaps  it  has  nothing  to  say,  being  too  busy.  Per- 
haps it  can  talk  no  more  sense  than  we.  ...  In  both 
oases  it  shows  its  wisdom  by  holding  its  tongue.  Be- 
cause it  moves  in  one  necessary  direction  ? . . . How 


HYPATIA. 


259 


do  I know  that  it  does  ? How  can  I tell  that  it  is  not 
flirting1  with  all  the  seven  spheres  at  once,  at  this  mo- 
ment ? But  if  it  does — so  much  the  wiser  of  it,  if  that 
be  the  best  direction  for  it.  Oh,  what  a base  satire 
on  ourselves  and  our  notions  of  the  fair  and  fitting,  to 
say  that  a thing  cannot  be  alive  and  rational,  just  be- 
cause it  goes  steadily  on  upon  its  own  road,  instead 
of  skipping  and  scrambling  fantastically  up  and  down 
without  method  or  order,  like  us  and  the  fleas,  from 
the  cradle  to  the  grave!  Besides,  if  you  grant,  with 
the  rest  of  the  world,  that  fleas  are  less  noble  than  we, 
because  they  are  our  parasites,  then  you  are  bound  to 
grant  that  we  are  less  noble  than  the  earth,  because 
we  are  its  parasites.  . . . Positively,  it  looks  more 
probable  than  anything  I have  seen  for  many  a day. 
. . . And,  by-the-by,  why  should  not  earthquakes,  and 
floods,  and  pestilences,  be  only  just  so  many  ways 
which  the  cunning  old  brute  earth  has  of  scratching 
herself,  when  the  human  fleas  and  their  palace  and 
city  bites  get  too  troublesome  ? ” 

At  a turn  of  the  road  he  was  aroused  from  this 
profitable  meditation  by  a shriek,  the  shrillness  of 
which  told  him  that  it  was  a woman’s.  He  looked  up, 
and  saw  close  to  him,  among  the  smoldering  ruins  of 
a farmhouse,  two  ruffians  driving  before  them  a young 
girl,  with  her  hands  tied  behind  her,  while  the  poor 
creature  was  looking  back  piteously  after  something 
among  the  ruins,  and  struggling  in  vain,  bound  as  she 
was,  to  escape  from  her  captors,  and  return. 

“Conduct  unjustifiable  in  any  fleas — eh.  Bran? 
How  do  I know  that,  though  ? Why  should  it  not  be 
a piece  of  excellent  fortune  for  her,  if  she  had  but  the 
equanimity  to  see  it  ? Why — what  will  happen  to 
her  ? She  will  be  taken  to  Rome,  and  sold  as  a slave. 
. . . And,  in  spite  of  a few  discomforts  in  the  transfer, 


260 


HYPATIA. 


and  the  prejudice  which  some  persons  have  against 
standing  an  hour  on  the  catasta  to  be  handled  from 
head  to  foot  in  the  minimum  of  clothing,  she  will  most 
probably  end  in  being  far  better  housed,  fed,  bedizened, 
and  pampered  to  her  heart’s  desire,  than  ninety-nine 
out  of  a hundred  of  her  sister-fleas  . . . till  she  begins 
to  grow  old  . . . which  she  must  do  in  any  case.  . . . 
And  if  she  have  not  contrived  to  wheedle  her  master 
out  of  her  liberty,  and  to  make  up  a pretty  little  purse 
of  savings  by  that  time — why,  it  is  her  own  fault.  Eh, 
Bran?” 

But  Bran  by  no  means  agreed  with  this  view  of  the 
case,  for,  after  watching  the  two  ruffians,  with  her 
head  stuck  on  one  side,  for  a minute  or  two,  she  sud- 
denly and  silently,  after  the  manner  of  mastiffs,  sprang 
upon  them,  and  dragged  one  to  the  ground. 

“Oh!  that  is  the  ‘fit  and  beautiful,’  in  this  case,  as 
they  say  in  Alexandria,  is  it  ? Well — I obey.  You  are 
at  least  a more  practical  teacher  than  ever  Hypatia 
was.  Heaven  grant  that  there  may  be  no  more  of 
them  in  the  ruins ! ” 

And  rushing  on  the  second  plunderer,  he  laid  him 
dead  with  a blow  of  his  dagger,  and  then  turned  to 
the  first,  whom  Bran  was  holding  down  by  the  throat. 

“ Mercy,  mercy ! ” shrieked  the  wretch.  “Life!  only 
life!” 

“ There  was  a fellow  half  a mile  back  begging  me  to 
kill  him  ; with  which  of  you  two  am  I to  agree  ? — for 
you  can’t  both  be  right.” 

“ Life  only  life!” 

“A  carnal  appetite,  which  man  must  learn  to  con- 
quer,” said  Raphael,  as  he  raised  the  poniard.  ...  In 
a moment  it  was  over,  and  Bran  and  he  rose.  Where 
was  the  girl  ? She  had  rushed  back  to  the  ruins, 
whither  Raphael  followed  her;  while  Bran  ran  to  the 


At  a turn  of  the  road  he  was  aroused  from  this  profitable  meditation  by  a shriek. 


HYPATIA. 


263 


puppies,  which  he  had  laid  upon  a stone,  and  com- 
menced her  maternal  cares. 

"What  do  you  want,  my  poor  girl?”  asked  he  in 
Latin.  " I will  not  hurt  you.” 

" My  father ! My  father ! ” 

He  untied  her  bruised  and  swollen  wrists;  and  with- 
out stopping  to  thank  him,  she  ran  to  a heap  of  fallen 
stones  and  beams,  and  began  digging  wildly  with  her 
little  strength,  breathlessly  calling  " Father!” 

"Such  is  the  gratitude  of  flea  to  flea!  What  is 
there,  now,  in  the  mere  fact  of  being  accustomed  to. 
call  another  person  father,  and  not  master,  or  slave,, 
which  should  produce  such  passion  as  that  ? . . . Brute 
habit!  . . . What  services  can  the  said  man  render, 

or  have  rendered,  which  make  him  worth Here  is 

Bran!  . . . What  do  you  think  of  that,  my  female 
philosopher  ? ” 

Bran  sat  down  and  watched  too.  The  poor  girl’s 
tender  hands  were  bleeding  from  the  stones,  while  her 
golden  tresses  rolled  down  over  her  eyes,  and  entan- 
gled in  her  impatient  fingers:  but  still  she  worked 
frantically.  Bran  seemed  suddenly  to  comprehend  the 
case,  rushed  to  the  rescue,  and  began  digging  too,  with 
all  her  might. 

Raphael  rose  with  a shrug,  and  joined  in  the  work. 
****** 

"Hang  these  brute  instincts!  They  make  one  very 
hot.  What  was  that  ? ” 

A feeble  moan  rose  from  under  the  stones.  A hu- 
man limb  was  uncovered.  The  girl  threw  herself  on 
the  place,  shrieking  her  father’s  name.  Raphael  put- 
tier gently  back,  and  exerting  his  whole  strength  drew 
out  of  the  ruins  a stalwart  elderly  man,  in  the  dress- 
of  an  officer  of  high  rank. 

He  still  breathed.  The  girl  lifted  up  his  head  anct 


264 


HYPATIA. 


covered  him  with  wild  kisses.  Raphael  looked  round 
for  water;  found  a spring1  and  a broken  sherd,  and 
bathed  the  wounded  man’s  temples  till  he  opened  his 
etyes  and  showed  signs  of  returning  life. 

The  girl  still  sat  by  him,  fondling  her  recovered 
treasure,  and  bathing  the  grizzled  face  in  holy  tears. 

“ It  is  no  business  of  mine/’  said  Raphael.  “ Come, 
Bran!” 

The  girl  sprang  up,  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  kissed 
his  hands,  called  him  her  saviour,  her  deliverer,  sent 
by  God. 

“Not  in  the  least,  my  child.  You  must  thank  my 
teacher  the  dog,  not  me.” 

And  she  took  him  at  his  word,  and  threw  her  soft 
arms  round  Bran’s  neck;  and  Bran  understood  it,  and 
wagged  her  tail,  and  licked  the  gentle  face  loMngly. 

“Intolerably  absurd,  all  this!”  said  Raphael.  “I 
must  be  going,  Bran.” 

“You  will  not  leave  us?  You  surely  will  not  leave 
an  old  man  to  die  here  ?” 

“ Why  not  ? What  better  thing  could  happen  to 
him  ? ” 

“Nothing,”  murmured  the  officer,  who  had  not 
spoken  before. 

“Ah,  God!  he  is  my  father!” 

“ Well?” 

“ He  is  my  father!  ” 

“ Well  ? ”* 

“ You  must  save  him ! You  shall,  I say ! ” And  she 
seized  Raphael’s  arm  in  the  imperiousness  of  her  pas- 
sion. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders:  but  felt,  he  knew  not 
why,  marvellously  inclined  to  obey  her. 

“I  may  as  well  do  this  as  anything  else,  having 
nothing  else  to  do.  Whither  now,  sir  ? ” 


HYPATIA. 


265 


“ Whither  you  will.  Our  troops  are  disgraced,  our 
eagles  taken.  We  are  your  prisoners  by  right  of  war. 
We  follow  you.” 

“ Oh,  my  fortune ! A new  responsibility ! Why  can- 
not I stir,  without  live  animals,  from  fleas  upward,  at- 
taching themselves  to  me  ? Is  it  not  enough  to  have 
nine  blind  puppies  at  my  back,  and  an  old  brute  at  my 
heels,  who  will  persist  in  saving  my  life,  that  I must 
be  burdened  over  and  above  with  a respectable  elderly 
rebel  and  his  daughter  ? Why  am  I not  allowed  by 
fate  to  care  for  nobody  but  myself  ? Sir,  I give  you 
both  your  freedom.  The  world  is  wide  enough  for  us 
all.  I really  ask  no  ransom.” 

“ You  seem  philosophically  disposed,  my  friend.” 

“ I ? Heaven  forbid ! I have  gone  right  through 
that  slough,  and  come  out  sheer  on  the  other  side. 
For  sweeping  the  last  lingering  taint  of  it  out  of  me,  I 
have  to  thank,  not  sulphur  and  exorcisms,  but  your 
soldiers  and  their  morning’s  work.  Philosophy  is 
superfluous  in  a world  where  all  are  fools.” 

“Do  you  include  yourself  under  that  title  ?” 

“ Most  certainly,  my  best  sir.  Don't  fancy  that  I 
make  any  exceptions.  If  I can  in  any  way  prove  my 
folly  to  you,  I will  do  it.” 

“ Then  help  me  and  my  daughter  to  Ostia.” 

“A  very  fair  instance.  Well — my  dog  happens  to 
be  going  that  way ; and,  after  all,  you  seem  to  have  a 
sufficient  share  of  human  imbecility  to  be  a very  fit 
companion  for  me.  I hope,  though,  you  do  not  set  up 
for  a wise  man.” 

“ God  knows — no ! Am  I not  of  Heraclian’s  army  ? ” 
“ True;  and  the  young  lady,  here,  made  herself  so 
great  a fool  about  you,  that  she  actually  infected  the 
very  dog.” 

“ So  we  three  fools  will  forth  together.” 


266 


HYPATIA. 


“And  the  greatest  one,  as  usual,  must  help  the  rest. 
But  I have  nine  puppies  in  family  already.  How 
am  I to  carry  you  and  them  ? ” 

“ I will  take  them,”  said  the  girl;  and  Bran,  after 
looking  on  at  the  transfer  with  a somewhat  dubious 
face,  seemed  to  satisfy  herself  that  all  was  right,  and 
put  her  head  contentedly  under  the  girl's  hand. 

“Eh?  You  trust  her,  Bran?”  said  Raphael,  in  an 
undertone.  “ I must  really  emancipate  myself  from 
your  instructions  if  you  require  a similar  simplicity  in 
me.  Stay ! there  wanders  a mule  without  a rider ; we 
may  as  well  press  him  into  the  service.” 

He  caught  the  mule,  lifted  the  wounded  man  into 
the  saddle,  and  the  cavalcade  set  forth,  turning  out  of 
the  high-road  into  a by-lane,  which  the  officer,  who 
seemed  to  know  the  country  thoroughly,  assured  him 
would  lead  them  to  Ostia  by  an  unfrequented  route. 

“ If  we  arrive  there  before  sundown,  we  are  saved,” 
said  he. 

“And  in  the  mean  time,”  answered  Raphael,  “ be- 
tween the  dog  and  this  dagger,  which,  as  I take  care 
to  inform  all  comers,  is  delicately  poisoned,  we  may 
keep  ourselves  clear  of  marauders.  And  yet,  what  a 
meddling  fool  I am! ” he  went  on  to  himself.  “What 
possible  interest  can  I have  in  this  uncircumcised 
rebel  ? The  least  evil  is,  that  if  we  are  taken,  which 
we  most  probably  shall  be,  I shall  be  crucified  for  help- 
ing him  to  escape.  But  even  if  we  get  safe  off — here 
is  a fresh  tie  between  me  and  those  ve^  brother  fleas 
to  be  rid  of  whom  I have  chosen  beggary  and  starva- 
tion. Who  knows  where  it  may  end  ? Pooh ! The 
man  is  like  other  men.  He  is  certain,  before  the  day  is 
over,  to  prove  ungrateful,  or  attempt  the  mounte- 
bank-heroic, or  give  me  some  other  excuse  for  bidding 
him  good  evening.  And  in  the  ihean  time,  there  is 


HYPATIA. 


267 


something  quaint  in  the  fact  of  finding  so  sober  a re- 
spectability, with  a young  daughter,  too,  abroad  on 
this  fool’s  errand,  which  really  makes  me  curious  to 
discover  with  what  variety  of  flea  I am  to  class  him.” 

But  while  Aben-Ezra  was  talking  to  himself  about 
the  father,  he  could  not  help,  somehow,  thinking  about 
the  daughter.  Again  and  again  he  found  himself 
looking  at  her.  She  was,  undeniably,  most  beautiful. 
Her  features  were  not  as  regular  perfect  as  Hypatia’s, 
nor  her  stature  so  commanding;  but  her  face  shone 
with  a clear  and  joyful  determination,  and  with  a ten- 
der and  modest  thoughtfulness,  such  as  he  had  never 
beheld  before  united  in  one  countenance;  and  as  she 
stepped  along,  firmly  and  lightly,  by  her  father’s  side, 
looping  up  her  scattered  tresses  as  she  went,  laughing’ 
at  the  struggles  of  her  noisy  burden,  and  looking  up 
with  rapture  at  her  father’s  gradually  brightening 
face,  Raphael  could  not  help  stealing  glance  after 
glance,  and  was  surprised  to  find  them  returned  with 
a bright,  honest,  smiling  gratitude,  which  met  him 
full-eyed,  as  free  from  prudery  as  it  was  from  coquet^. 
. . . “A  lady  she  is,”  said  he  to  himself,  “ but  evidently 
no  city  one.  There  is  nature — or  something  else,  there, 
pure  and  unadulterated,  without  any  of  man’s  addi- 
tions or  beautifications.”  And  as  he  looked,  he  began 
to  feel  it  a pleasure,  such  as  his  weary  heart  had  not 
known  for  many  a year,  simply  to  watch  her.  . . . 

“ Positively  there  is  a foolish  enjoyment  after  all  in 
making  other  fleas  smile.  . . . Ass  that  I am ! As  if  I 
had  not  drank  all  that  ditchwater  cup  to  the  dregs 
years  ago ! ” 

They  went  on  for  some  time  in  silence,  till  the  officer 
turning  to  him— 

“And  may  I ask  you,  my  quaint  preserver,  whom  I 
would  have  thanked  before  but  for  this  foolish  faint- 


268 


HYPATIA. 


ness,  which  is  now  going  off,  what  and  who  are 
you  ? ” 

“A  flea,  sir — a flea — nothing  more.” 

“But  a patrician  flea,  surely;  to  judge  by  your  lan- 
guage and  manners  ? ” 

“ Not  that  exactly.  True,  I have  been  rich,  as  the 
saying  is : I may  be  rich  again,  they  tell  me,  when  I 
am  fool  enough  to  choose.” 

“ Oh,  if  we  were  but  rich ! ” sighed  the  girl. 

“You  would  be  very  unhappy,  my  dear  3Toung  lady. 
Believe  a flea  who  has  tried  the  experiment  thor- 
oughly.” 

“Ah!  but  we  could  ransom  my  brother!  and  now 
we  can  find  no  money  til]  we  get  back  to  Africa.” 
“And  none  then,”  said  the  officer,  in  a low  voice. 
"You  forget,  1113"  poor  child,  that  I mortgaged  the 
whole  estate  to  raise  my  legion.  We  must  not  shrink 
from  looking  at  things  as  they  are.” 

“Ah  ! and  he  is  prisoner ! he  will  be  sold  for  a slave 
— -perhaps  — ah!  perhaps  crucified,  for  he  is  not  a 
Roman ! Oh,  he  will  be  crucified ! ” and  she  burst  into 
an  agony  of  weeping.  . . . Suddenty  she  dashed  awa3r 
her  tears  and  looked  up  clear  and  bright  once  more. 
“No,  forgive  me,  father!  God  will  protect  His  own.” 
“ My  dear  3Toung  lad3r,”  said  Raphael,  “if  you  really 
dislike  such  a prospect  for  3Tour  brother,  and  are  in 
want  of  a few  dirt3T  coins  wherewith  to  prevent  it, 
perhaps  I may  be  able  to  find  you  them  in  Ostia.” 

She  looked  at  him  incredulously,  as  her  eye  glanced 
over  his  rags,  and  then,  blushing,  begged  his  pardon 
for  her  unspoken  thoughts. 

“Well — as  3mu  choose  to  suppose.  But  1113^  dog  has 
been  so  civil  to  you  alread3r,  that  perhaps  she  may 
have  no  objection  to  make  3mu  a present  of  that  neck- 
lace of  hers.  I will  go  to  the  rabbis,  and  we  will  make 


HYPATIA. 


269 

all  right;  so  don’t  cry.  I hate  crying;  and  the  puppies 
are  quite  chorus  enough  for  the  present  tragedy.” 

“ The  rabbis  ? Are  you  a Jew  ? ” asked  the  officer. 

“ Yes,  sir,  a Jew.  And  you,  I presume,  a Christian; 
perhaps  you  may  have  scruples  about  receiving — your 
sect  has  generally  none  about  taking — from  one  of  our 
stubborn  and  unbelieving  race.  Don’t  be  frightened, 
though,  for  your  conscience;  I assure  you  I am  no 
more  a Jew  at  heart  than  I am  a Christian.” 

“ God  help  you,  then ! ” 

“ Some  one,  or  something,  has  helped  me  a great 
deal  too  much,  for  three-and-thirty  years  of  pamper- 
ing. But,  pardon  me,  that  was  a strange  speech  for  a 
Christian.” 

“ You  must  be  a good  Jew,  sir,  before  you  can  be  a 
good  Christian.” 

“ Possibly.  I intend  to  be  neither — nor  a good  Pagan 
either.  My  dear  sir,  let  us  drop  the  subject.  It  is  be- 
yond me.  If  I can  be  as  good  a brute  animal  as  my 
dog  there — it  being  first  demonstrated  that  it  is  good 
to  be  good — I shall  be  very  well  content.” 

The  officer  looked  down  on  him  with  a stately,  loving 
sorrow.  Raphael  caught  his  eye,  and  felt  that  he  was 
in  the  presence  of  no  common  man. 

“ I must  take  care  what  I say  here,  I suspect,  or  I 
shall  be  entangled  shortly  in  a regular  Socratic  dia- 
logue. . . . And  now,  sir,  may  I return  your  question, 
and  ask  who  and  what  are  you  ? I really  have  no  in- 
tention of  giving  you  up  to  any  Ciesar,  Antiochus, 
Tiglath  Pileser,  or  other  flea-devouring  flea.  . . . They 
will  fatten  well  enough  without  your  blood.  So  I only 
ask  as  a student  of  the  great  nothing-in -general,  which 
men  call  the  universe.” 

“I  was  prefect  of  a legion  this  morning.  What  I 
am  now,  you  know  as  well  as  I.” 


270 


HYPATIA. 


“ Just  what  I do  not.  I am  in  deep  wonder  at  seeing* 
your  hilarity,  when,  by  all  flea  analogies,  you  ought 
to  be  either  behowling*  your  fate  like  Achilles  on  the 
shores  of  Styx,  or  pretending*  to  g*rin  and  bear  it,  as  I 
was  taug'ht  to  do  when  I played  at  Stoicism.  You  are 
not  of  that  sect  certainly,  for  you  confessed  yourself  a 
fool  just  now/’ 

“And  it  would  be  long*,  would  it  not,  before  you 
made  one  of  them  do  as  much?  Well,  be  it  so.  A 
fool  I am;  yet,  if  God  helps  us  as  far  as  Ostia,  why 
should  I not  be  cheerful  ?” 

“ Why  should  you  ? ” 

“What  better  thing*  can  happen  to  a fool,  than  that 
God  should  teach  him  that  he  is  one,  when  he  fancied 
himself  the  wisest  of  the  wise  ? Listen  to  me,  sir. 
Four  months  ag*o  I was  blessed  with  health,  honor, 
lands,  friends — all  for  which  the  heart  of  man  could 
wish.  And  if,  for  an  insane  ambition,  I have  chosen 
to  risk  all  those,  against  the  solemn  warnings  of  the 
truest  friend,  and  the  wisest  saint,  who  treads  this 
earth  of  God’s — should  I not  rejoice  to  have  it  proved 
to  me,  even  by  such  a lesson  as  this,  that  the  friend 
who  never  deceived  me  before  was  right  in  this  case 
too;  and  that  the  God  who  has  checked  and  turned 
me  for  forty  years  of  wild  toil  and  warfare,  whenever 
I dared  to  do  what  was  right  in  the  sight  of  my  own 
eyes,  has  not  forgotten  me  yet,  or  given  up  the  thank- 
less task  of  my  education  ? ” 

“And  who,  pray,  is  this  peerless  friend  ? 99 

“Augustine  of  Hippo.” 

“ Humph!  It  had  been  better  for  the  world  in  gen- 
eral if  the  great  dialectician  had  exerted  his  powers 
of  persuasion  on  Heraclian  himself.” 

“ He  did  so,  but  in  vain.” 

“I  don’t  doubt  it.  I know  the  sleek  count  well 


HYPATIA. 


271 


enough  to  judge  what  effect  a sermon  would  have 
upon  that  smooth  vulpine  determination  of  his.  . . . 
‘An  instrument  in  the  hands  of  God,  my  dear  brother. 
. . . We  must  obey  His  call,  even  to  the  death/  etc., 
etc.”  And  Raphael  laughed  bitterly. 

“ You  know  the  count  ?” 

“As  well,  sir,  as  I care  to  know  any  man.” 

“ I am  sorry  for  your  eyesight,  then,  sir,”  said  the 
prefect,  severely,  “if  it  has  been  able  to  discern  no 
more  than  that  in  so  august  a character.” 

“My  dear  sir,  I do  not  doubt  his  excellence — nay, 
his  inspiration.  How  well  he  divined  the  perfectly  fit 
moment  for  stabbing  his  old  comrade  Stilicho!  But 
really,  as  two  men  of  the  world,  we  must  be  aware  by 
this  time  that  every  man  has  his  price.”  . . . 

“ Oh,  hush ! hush ! ” whispered  the  girl.  “You  cannot 
guess  how  you  pain  him.  He  worships  the  count.  It 
was  not  ambition,  as  he  pretends,  but  merely  loyalty 
to  him,  which  brought  him  here  against  his  will.” 

“ My  dear  madam,  forgive  me.  For  your  sake  I am 
silent.”  . . . 

“ For  her  sake ! A pretty  speech  for  me ! What 
next!”  said  he  to  himself.  “Ah,  Bran,  Bran,  this  is 
all  your  fault ! ” 

“ For  my  sake  ? Oh,  why  not  for  your  own  sake  ? 
How  sad  to  hear  one — one  like  you,  only  sneering  and 
speaking  evil ! ” 

“ Why  then  ? If  fools  are  fools,  and  one  can  safely 
call  them  so,  why  not  do  it  ?” 

“Ah — if  God  was  merciful  enough  to  send  down  his 
own  Son  to  die  for  them,  should  we  not  be  merciful 
enough  not  to  judge  their  failings  harshly  ?” 

“ My  dear  young  lady,  spare  a worn-out  philosopher 
any  new  anthropological  theories.  W e really  must  push 
on  a little  faster,  if  we  intend  to  reach  Ostia  to-night.” 


272 


HYPATIA. 


But,  for  some  reason  or  other,  Raphael  sneered  no 
more  for  a full  half-hour. 

Long’,  however,  ere  they  reached  Ostia,  the  night 
had  fallen;  and  their  situation  seemed  to  be  more  than 
questionably  safe.  Now  and  then  a wolf,  slinking 
across  the  road  toward  his  ghastly  feast,  glided  like  a 
lank  ghost  out  of  the  darkness,  and  into  it  again,  an- 
swering Bran’s  growl  by  a gleam  of  his  white  teeth. 
Then  the  voices  of  some  marauding  party  rang  coarse 
and  loud  through  the  stjll  night,  and  made  them  hesi- 
tate and  stop  awhile.  And  at  last,  worst  of  all,  the 
measured  tramp  of  an  imperial  column  began  to  roll 
like  distant  thunder  along  the  plain  below.  They  were 
advancing*  upon  Ostia!  What  if  they  arrived  there 
before  the  routed  army  could  rally,  and  defend  them- 
selves long  enough  to  re-embark  ? . . . What  if — a 
thousand  ugly  possibilities  began  to  crowd  up. 

“ Suppose  we  found  the  gates  of  Ostia  shut,  and  the 
Imperialists  bivouacked  outside  ? ” said  Raphael  half 
to  himself. 

"God  would  protect  His  own,”  answered  the  girl; 
and  Raphael  had  no  heart  to  rob  her  of  her  hope, 
though  he  looked  upon  their  chances  of  escape  as 
growing  smaller  and  smaller  every  moment.  The 
poor  girl  was  weary;  the  mule  weary  also;  and  as 
they  crawled  along,  at  a pace  which  made  it  certain 
that  the  fast  passing  column  would  be  at  Ostia  an 
hour  before  them,  to  join  the  vanguard  of  the  pursuers, 
and  aid  them  in  investing  the  town,  she  had  to  lean 
again  and  again  on  Raphael’s  arm.  Her  shoes,  un- 
fitted for  so  rough  a journey,  had  been  long  since  torn 
off,  and  her  tender  feet  were  marking  every  step  with 
blood.  Raphael  knew  it  by  her  faltering  gait;  and  re- 
marked, too,  that  neither  sign  nor  murmur  passed  her 
lips.  But  as  for  helping  her,  he  could  not;  and  began 


HYPATIA, 


273 


to  curse  the  fancy  which  had  led  him  to  eschew  even 
sandals  as  unworthy  the  self-dependence  of  a Cynic. 

And  so  they  crawled  along-,  while  Raphael  and  the 
prefect,  each  guessing  the  terrible  thoughts  of  the 
other,  were  thankful  for  the  darkness  which  hid  their 
despairing  countenances  from  the  young  girl;  she,  on 
fche  other  hand,  chatted  cheerfully,  almost  laughingly, 
to  her  silent  father. 

At  last  the  poor  child  stepped  on  some  stone  more 
sharp  than  usual  — and  with  a sudden  writhe  and 
shriek,  sank  to  the  ground.  Raphael  lifted  her  up,  and 
she  tried  to  proceed,  but  sank  down  again.  . . . What 
was  to  be  done  ? 

“ I expected  this,”  said  the  prefect,  in  a slow  stately 
voice.  ‘‘Hear  me,  sir!  Jew,  Christian,  or  philosopher, 
God  seems  to  have  bestowed  on  you  a heart  which  I 
can  trust.  To  your  care  I commit  this  girl — your 
property,  like  me,  by  right  of  war.  Mount  her  upon 
this  mule.  Hasten  with  her — where  you  will — for  God 
will  be  there  also.  And  may  He  so  deal  with  you  as 
you  deal  with  her  henceforth.  An  old  and  disgraced 
soldier  can  do  no  more  than  die.” 

And  he  made  an  effort  to  dismount;  but  fainting 
from  his  wounds,  sank  upon  the  neck  of  the  mule. 
Raphael  and  his  daughter  caught  him  in  their  arms. 

“Father!  Father!  Impossible!  Cruel!  Oh  — do 
you  think  that  I would  have  followed  you  hither  from 
Africa,  against  your  own  entreaties,  to  desert  you 
now  ? ” 

“ My  daughter,  I command ! ” 

The  girl  remained  firm  and  silent. 

“ How  long  have  you  learned  to  disobey  me  ? Lift 
the  old  disgraced  man  down,  sir,  and  leave  him  to  die 
in  the  right  place — on  the  battle-field  where  his  gen- 
eral sent  him.” 

18 


274 


HYPATIA. 


The  girl  sank  down  on  the  road  in  an  agony  of  weep- 
ing. “I  must  help  myself,  I see,”  said  her  father, 
dropping  to  the  ground.  “ Authority  vanishes  before 
old  age  and  humiliation.  Victoria!  has  your  father 
no  sins  to  answer  for  already,  that  you  will  send  him 
before  his  God  with  your  blood  too  upon  his  head  ? ” 
Still  the  girl  sat  weeping  on  the  ground;  while 
Raphael,  utterly  at  his  wits’  end,  tried  hard  to  per- 
suade himself  that  it  was  no  concern  of  his. 

“ I am  at  the  service  of  either  or  of  both,  for  life  or 
death;  only  be  so  good  as  to  settle  it  quickly.  . . . 
Hell!  here  it  is  settled  for  us  with  a vengeance!  ” 

And  as  he  spoke,  the  tramp  and  jingle  of  horsemen 
rang  along  the  lane,  approaching  rapidly. 

In  an  instant  Victoria  had  sprung  to  her  feet — 
weakness  and  pain  had  vanished. 

“ There  is  one  chance — one  chance  for  him ! lift  him 
over  the  bank,  sir!  Lift  him  over,  while  I run  for- 
ward and  meet  them.  My  death  will  delay  them  long 
enough  for  you  to  save  him!” 

“ Death!”  cried  Raphael,  seizing  her  by  the  arm. 
“ If  that  were  all ” 

“ God  will  protect  His  own,”  answered  she,  calmly, 
laying  her  finger  on  her  lips;  and  then  breaking  from 
his  grasp  in  the  strength  of  her  heroism,  vanished  into 
the  night. 

Her  father  tried  to  follow  her,  but  fell  on  his  face 
groaning.  Raphael  lifted  him,  strove  to  drag  him  up 
the  steep  bank:  but  his  knees  knocked  together;  a 
faint  sweat  seemed  to  melt  every  limb.  . . . There  was 
a pause,  which  seemed  ages  long.  . . . Nearer  and 
nearer  came  the  trampling.  ...  A sudden  gleam  of 
the  moon  revealed  Victoria  with  outspread  arms,  right 
before  the  horses’  heads.  A heavenly  glory  seemed 
to  bathe  her  from  head  to  foot  ...  or  was  it  tears 


HYPATIA. 


275 


sparkling  in  his  own  eyes  ? . . . Then  the  grate  and 
jar  of  the  horse-hoofs  on  the  road,  as  they  pulled  up 
suddenly.  . . . He  turned  his  face  away  and  shut  his 
eyes.  . . . 


“What  are  you  ? ” thundered  a voice. 

“What  are  you?”  thundered  a voice. 

“Victoria,  the  daughter  of  Majoricus  the  prefect.” 
The  voice  was  low,  but  yet  so  clear  and  calm,  that 
every  syllable  rang  through  Aben-Ezra’s  tingling 
ears.  . . . 


27  6 


HYPATIA. 


A shout — a shriek — the  confused  murmur  of  many 
voices.  . . . He  looked  up,  in  spite  of  himself — a horse- 
man had  sprung-  to  the  ground,  and  clasped  Victoria 
in  his  arms.  The  human  heart  of  flesh,  asleep  for 
many  a year,  leaped  into  mad  life  within  his  breast, 
and  drawing  his  dagger,  he  rushed  into  the  throng 

"Villains!  Hellhounds!  I will  balk  you!  she  shall 
die  first ! ” 

And  the  bright  blade  gleamed  over  Victoria's  head. 
. . . He  was  struck  down — blinded — half  stunned — but 
rose  again  with  the  energy  of  madness.  . . . What 
was  this?  Soft  arms  around  him.  . . . Victoria’s! 

"Save  him,  spare  him!  he  saved  us!  Sir!  It  is  my 
brother!  We  are  safe!  Oh,  spare  the  dog!  It  saved 
my  father ! ” 

"We  have  mistaken  each  other,  indeed,  sir!”  said  a 
gay  young  tribune,  in  a Amice  trembling  with  joy. 
" Where  is  1113^  father  ? ” 

" Fifty  yards  behind.  Down,  Bran!  Quiet  ! O Solo- 
mon, mine  ancestor,  why  did  3rou  not  prevent  me  mak- 
ing such  an  egregious  fool  of  ni3Tself  ? Wli3T,  I shall 
be  forced,  in  self-justification,  to  carr3^  through  the 
farce ! ” 

There  is  no  use  telling  what  followed  during  the 
next  five  minutes,  at  the  end  of  which  time  Raphael 
found  himself  astride  of  a goodR  Avar-horse,  by  the 
side  of  the  3roung  tribune,  who  carried  Victoria  before 
him.  Tavo  soldiers  in  the  mean  time  Avere  supporting 
the  prefect  on  his  mule,  and  coiia- incing  that  stubborn 
bearer  of  burdens  that  it  was  not  quite  so  unable  to 
trot  as  it  had  fancied,  by  the  combined  arguments  of 
a drench  of  wine  and  two  sword  points,  while  they- 
heaped  their  general  with  blessings,  and  kissed  his 
hands  and  feet. 

"Your  father’s  soldiers  seem  to  consider  themselves 


HYPATIA. 


277 


in  debt  to  him;  not,  surely,  for  taking  them  where 
they  could  best  run  away  ?” 

“Ah,  poor  fellows !”  said  the  tribune;  “we  have  had 
as  real  a panic  among  us  as  I ever  read  of  in  Arrian 
or  Potybius.  But  he  has  been  a father  rather  than  a 
general  to  them.  It  is  not  often  that,  out  of  a routed 
army,  twenty  gallant  men  will  volunteer  to  ride  back 
into  the  enemy’s  ranks,  on  the  chance  of  an  old  man’s 
breathing  still.” 

“Then  you  knew  where  to  find  us?”  said  Victoria. 

“Some  of  them  knew.  And  he  himself  showed  us 
this  very  by-road  yesterday,  when  we  took  up  our 
ground,  and  told  us  it  might  be  of  service  on  occasion 
—and  so  it  has  been.” 

“ But  they  told  me  that  you  were  taken  prisoner. 
Oh,  the  torture  I have  suffered  for  you!” 

“ Silly  child ! Did  you  fancy  my  father’s  son  would 
be  taken  alive  ? I and  the  first  troop  got  away  over 
the  garden  walls,  and  cut  our  way  out  into  the  plain, 
fihree  hours  ago.” 

“Did  I not  tell  you,”  said  Victoria,  leaning  toward 
Raphael,  “that  God  would  protect  His  own?” 

“You  did,”  answered  he,  and  fell  into  a long  and 
silent  meditation 


278 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  ROCKS  OF  THE  SIRENS. 

These  four  months  had  been  busy  and  eventful 
enough  to  Hypatia  and  to  Philammon;  yet  the  events 
and  the  business  were  of  so  gradual  and  uniform  a 
tenor,  that  it  is  as  well  to  pass  quickly  over  them,  and 
show  what  had  happened  principally  by  its  effects. 

The  robust  and  fiery  desert  lad  was  now  metamor- 
phosed into  the  pale  and  thoughtful  student,  oppressed 
with  the  weight  of  careful  thought  and  weary  mem- 
ory. But  those  remembrances  were  all  recent  ones. 
With  his  entrance  into  Hypatia’s  lecture-room,  and 
into  the  fairy  realms  of  Greek  thought,  a new  life  had 
beffun  for  him;  and  the  Laura,  and  Pam  bo,  and  Ar- 
senius  seemed  dim  phantoms  from  some  antenatal 
existence,  which  faded  day  by  day  before  the  inrush  of 
new  and  startling  knowledge. 

But  though  the  friends  and  scenes  of  his  childhood 
had  fallen  back  so  swiftly  into  the  far  horizon,  he  was 
not  lonely.  His  heart  found  a lovelier,  if  not  a healthier 
home,  than  it  had  ever  known  before.  For  during 
those  four  peaceful  and  busy  months  of  study  there 
had  sprung  up  between  Hypatia  and  the  beautiful  boy 
one  of  those  pure  and  yet  passionate  friendships — call 
them  rather,  with  St.  Augustine,  by  the  sacred  name 
of  love — which,  fair  and  holy  as  they  are  when  they 
link  youth  to  youth  or  girl  to  girl,  reach  their  full  per- 
fection only  between  man  and  woman.  The  unselfish 


HYPATIA. 


279 


adoration  with  which  a maiden  may  bow  down  before 
some  strong  and  holy  priest,  or  with  which  an  enthu- 
siastic boy  may  cling  to  the  wise  and  tender  matron, 
who,  amid  the  turmoil  of  the  world,  and  the  pride  of 
beauty  and  the  cares  of  wifehood,  bends  down  to  him 
with  counsel  and  encouragement  — earth  knows  no 
fairer  bonds  than  these  save  wedded  love  itself.  And 
that  second  relation,  motherly  rather  than  sisterly, 
had  bound  Philammon  with  a golden  chain  to  the 
wondrous  maid  of  Alexandria. 

From  the  commencement  of  his  attendance  in  her 
lecture-room  she  had  suited  her  discourses  to  what 
she  fancied  were  his  especial  spiritual  needs;  and 
many  a glance  of  the  eye  toward  him,  on  any  pecu- 
liarly important  sentence,  set  the  poor  boy’s  heart 
beating  at  that  sign  that  the  words  were  meant  for 
him.  But  before  a month  was  past,  won  by  the  in- 
tense attention  with  which  he  watched  for  every  utter- 
ance of  hers,  she  had  persuaded  her  father  to  give  him 
a place  in  the  library  as  one  of  his  pupils,  among  the 
youths  who  were  employed  there  daily  in  transcribing, 
as  well  as  in  studying,  the  authors  then  in  fashion. 

She  saw  him  at  first  but  seldom — more  seldom  than 
she  would  have  wished;  but  she  dreaded  the  tongue  of 
scandal,  heathen  as  well  as  Christian,  and  contented 
herself  with  inquiring  daily  from  her  father  about  the 
progress  of  the  boy.  And  when  at  times  she  entered 
for  a moment  the  library,  where  he  sat  writing,  or 
passed  him  on  her  way  to  the  Museum,  a look  was  in- 
terchanged, on  her  part  of  most  gracious  approval, 
and  on  his  of  adoring  gratitude,  which  was  enough  for 
both.  Her  spell  was  working  surely;  and  she  was  too 
confident  in  her  own  cause  and  her  own  powers  to  wish 
to  hurry  that  transformation  for  which  she  so  fondly 
hoped. 


280 


HYPATIA. 


“ He  must  begin  at  the  beginning,”  thought  she  to 
herself.  “ Mathematics  and  the  Parmenides  are  enough, 
for  him  as  yet.  Without  a training  in  the  liberal 
sciences  he  cannot  gain  a faith  worthy. of  those  gods 
to  whom  some  day  I shall  present  him;  and  I should 
soon  find  his  Christian  ignorance  and  fanaticism  trans- 
ferred,, whole  and  rude,  to  the  service  of  those  gods 
whose  shrine  is  unapproachable  save  to  the  spiritual 
man,  who  has  passed  through  the  successive  vestibules 
of  science  and  philosophy.” 

But  soon,  attracted  herself,  as  much  as  wishing  to 
attract  him,  she  employed  him  in  copying  manuscripts 
for  her  own  use.  She  sent  back  his  themes  and  decla- 
mations, corrected  with  her  own  hand;  and  Pliilam- 
mon  laid  them  by  in  his  little  garret  at  Endsemon’s 
house  as  precious  badges  of  honor,  after  exhibiting 
them  to  the  reverential  and  envious  gaze  of  the  little 
porter.  So  he  toiled  on,  early  and  late,  counting  him- 
self well  paid  for  a week's  intense  exertion  by  a single 
smile  or  word  of  approbation,  and  went  home  to  pour 
out  his  soul  to  his  host  on  the  one  inexhaustible  theme 
which  they  had  in  common  —Hypatia  and  her  perfec- 
tions. He  would  have  raved  often  enough  on  the 
same  subject  to  his  fellow-pupils,  but  he  shrank  not 
only  from  their  artificial  city  manners,  but  also  from 
their  morality,  for  suspecting  which  he  saw  but  too 
good  cause.  He  longed  to  go  out  into  the  streets,  to 
proclaim  to  the  whole  world  the  treasure  which  he  had 
found,  and  call  on  all  to  come  and  share  it  with  him. 
For  there  was  no  jealousy  in  that  pure  love  of  his. 
Could  he  have  seen  her  lavishing  on  thousands  far 
greater  favors  than  she  had  conferred  on  him,  he 
would  have  rejoiced  in  the  thought  that  there  were 
so  many  more  blest  beings  upon  earth,  and  have  loved 
them  all  and  every  one  as  brothers,  for  having  de- 


HYPATIA. 


281 


served  her  notice.  Her  very  beauty,  when  his  first 
flush  of  wonder  was  past,  he  ceased  to  mention — ceased 
even  to  think  of  it.  Of  course  she  must  be  beautiful. 
It  was  her  right;  the  natural  complement  of  her  other 
graces;  but  it  was  to  him  only  what  the  mother’s 
smile  is  to  the  infant,  the  sunlight  to  the  skylark,  the 
mountain  breeze  to  the  hunter — an  inspiring  element, 
on  which  he  fed  unconsciously.  Only  when  he  doubted 
for  a moment  some  especially  startling  or  fanciful  as- 
sertion, did  he  become  really  aware  of  the  great  loveli- 
ness of  her  who  made  it;  and  then  his  heart  silenced 
his  judgment  with  the  thought — Could  any  but  true 
words  come  out  of  those  perfect  bps  ? — any  but  royal 
thoughts  take  shape  within  that  queenly  head  ? . . . 
Poor  fool!  Yet  was  it  not  natural  enough? 

Then,  gradually,  as  she  passed  the  boy,  poring  over 
his  book,  in  some  alcove  of  the  Museum  Gardens,  she 
would  invite  him  by  a glance  to  join  the  knot  of 
loungers  and  questioners  who  dangled  about  her  and 
her  father,  and  fancied  themselves  to  be  reproducing 
the  days  of  the  Athenian  sages  amid  the  groves  of  an- 
other Academus.  Sometimes,  even,  she  had  beckoned 
him  to  her  side  as  she  sat  in  some  retired  arbor,  at- 
tended only  by  her  father ; and  there  some  passing 
observation,  earnest  and  personal,  however  lofty  and 
measured,  made  him  aware,  as  it  was  intended  to  do, 
that  she  had  a deeper  interest  in  him,  a livelier  sym- 
pathy for  him,  than  for  the  many;  that  he  was  in  her 
eyes  not  merely  a pupil  to  be  instructed,  but  a soul 
whom  she  desired  to  educate.  And  those  delicious 
gleams  of  sunlight  grew  more  frequent  and  more  pro- 
tracted; for  b\r  each  she  satisfied  herself  more  and 
more  that  she  had  not  mistaken  either  his  powers  or 
his  susceptibilities;  and  in  each,  whether  in  public  or 
private,  Philammon  seemed  to  bear  himself  more 


282 


HYPATIA. 


worthily.  For  over  and  above  the  natural  ease  and 
dignity  which  accompanies  physical  beauty,  and  the 
modesty,  self-restraint,  and  deep  earnestness  which  he 
had  acquired  under  the  discipline  of  the  Laura,  his 
Greek  character  was  developing  itself  in  all  its  quick- 
ness, subtlety,  and  versatility,  until  he  seemed  to  Hy- 
patia some  young  Titan,  by  the  side  of  the  flippant, 
hasty,  and  insincere  talkers  who  made  up  her  chosen 
circle. 

But  man  can  no  more  live  upon  Platonic  love  than 
upon  the  more  prolific  species  of  that  common  ailment; 
and  for  the  first  month  Philammon  would  have  gone 
hungry  to  his  couch  full  many  a night,  to  lie  awake 
from  baser  causes  than  philosophic  meditation,  had  it 
not  been  for  his  magnanimous  host,  who  never  lost 
heart  for  a moment,  either  about  himself  or  any  other 
human  being.  As  for  Philammon’s  going  out  with 
him  to  earn  his  bread,  he  would  not  hear  of  it.  Did 
he  suppose  that  he  could  meet  any  of  those  monkish 
rascals  in  the  street,  without  being  knocked  down 
and  carried  off  by  main  force  ? And  besides,  there  was 
a sort  of  impiety  in  allowing  so  hopeful  a student  to 
neglect  the  “ Divine  Ineffable  ” in  order  to  supply  the 
base  necessities  of  the  teeth.  So  he  should  pay  no 
rent  for  his  lodgings — positively  none;  and  as  for  eat- 
ables— why,  he  must  himself  work  a little  harder  in 
order  to  cater  for  both.  Had  not  all  his  neighbors 
their  litters  of  children  to  provide  for,  while  he,  thanks 
to  the  immortals,  had  been  far  too  wise  to  burden  the 
earth  with  animals  who  would  add  to  the  ugliness  of 
their  father  the  Tartarean  hue  of  their  mother  ? And 
after  all,  Philammon  could  pay  him  back  when  he  be- 
came a great  sophist,  and  made  money,  as  of  course 
he  would  some  day  or  other;  and  in  the  mean  time, 
something  might  turn  up — things  were  always  turn- 


HYPATIA. 


283 


mg  up  for  those  whom  the  gods  favored;  and  besides, 
he  had  fully  ascertained  that  on  the  day  on  which  he 
first  met  Philammon,  the  planets  were  favorable,  the 
Mercury  being  in  something  or  other,  he  forgot  what, 
with  Helios,  which  portended  for  Philammon,  in  his 
opinion,  a similar  career  with  that  of  the  glorious  and 
devout  Emperor  Julian. 

Philammon  winced  somewhat  at  the  hint;  which 
seemed  to  have  an  ugly  verisimilitude  in  it;  but  still, 
philosophy  he  must  learn,  and  bread  he  must  eat;  so 
he  submitted. 

But  one  evening,  a few  days  after  he  had  been  ad- 
mitted as  Theon’s  pupil,  he  found,  much  to  his  aston- 
ishment, lying  on  the  table  in  his  garret,  an  undeniable 
glittering  gold  piece.  He  took  it  down  to  the  porter 
the  next  morning,  and  begged  him  to  discover  the 
owner  of  the  lost  coin,  and  return  it  duly.  But  what 
was  his  surprise,  when  the  little  man,  amid  endless 
capers  and  gesticulations,  informed  him,  with  an  air 
of  mystery,  that  it  was  anything  but  lost;  that  his 
arrears  of  rent  had  been  paid  for  him;  and  that,  by 
the  bounty  of  the  upper  powers,  a fresh  piece  of  coin 
would  be  forthcoming  every  month ! In  vain  Philam- 
mon demanded  to  know  who  was  his  benefactor.  Eu- 
daemon  resolutely  kept  the  secret,  and  imprecated  a 
whole  tartarus  of  unnecessary  curses  on  his  wife  if  she 
allowed  her  female  garrulity — though  the  poor  creat- 
ure seemed  never  to  open  her  lips  from  morning  till 
night — to  betray  so  great  a mystery. 

Who  was  the  unknown  friend  ? There  was  but  one 
person  who  could  have  done  it.  . . . And  yet  he  dared 
not — the  thought  was  too  delightful — think  that  it 
was  she.  It  must  have  been  her  father.  The  old  man 
had  asked  him  more  than  once  about  the  state  of  his 
purse.  True,  he  had  always  returned  evasive  answers ; 


,284 


HYPATIA. 


but  the  kind  old  man  must  have  divined  the  truth. 
Ought  he  not — must  he  not — go  and  thank  him  ? No; 
perhaps  it  was  more  courteous  to  say  nothing.  If  he 
— she — for  of  course  she  had  permitted,  perhaps  ad- 
vised the  gift — had  intended  him  to  thank  them,  would 
they  have  so  carefully  concealed  their  own  generosity  ? 
. . . Be  it  so  then.  But  how  would  he  not  repay 
them  for  it!  How  delightful  to  be  in  her  debt  for  any- 
thing— for  everything!  Would  that  he  could  have 
the  enjoyment  of  owing  her  existence  itself! 

So  he  took  the  coin,  bought  unto  himself  a cloak  of 
the  most  philosophic  fashion,  and  went  his  way,  such 
as  it  was,  rejoicing'. 

But  his  faith  in  Christianity  ? What  had  become 
of  that  ? 

What  usually  happens  in  such  cases.  It  was  not 
dead;  but  nevertheless  it  had  fallen  fast  asleep  for  the 
time  being.  He  did  not  disbelieve  it;  he  would  have 
been  shocked  to  hear  such  a thing  asserted  of  him: 
but  he  happened  to  be  busy  believing  something  else 
— geometry,  conic  sections,  cosmogonies,  psychologies, 
and  what  not.  And  so  it  befell  that  he  had  not  just 
then  time  to  believe  in  Christianity.  He  recollected  at 
times  its  existence;  but  even  then  he  neither  affirmed 
nor  denied  it.  When  he  had  solved  the  great  ques- 
tions— those  which  Hypatia  set  forth  as  the  roots  of 
all  knowledge — how  the  world  was  made,  and  what 
was  the  origin  of  evil,  and  what  his  own  personality 
was,  and — that  being  settled — whether  he  had  one, 
with  a few  other  preliminary  matters,  then  it  would 
be  time  to  return,  with  his  enlarged  light,  to  the  stud}7 
of  Christianity;  and  if,  of  course,  Christianity  should 
be  found  to  be  at  variance  with  that  enlarged  light, 
as  Hypatia  seemed  to  think.  . . . Why,  then — What 
then  ? . . . He  would  not  think  about  such  disagree- 
able possibilities.  Sufficient  for  the  day  was  the  evil 


HYPATIA. 


285 


thereof.  Possibilities?  It  was  impossible.  . . . Phil- 
osophy could  not  mislead.  Had  not  Hypatia  defined 
it  as  man's  search  after  the  unseen  ? And  if  he  found 
the  unseen  by  it,  did  it  not  come  to  just  the  same  thing 
as  if  the  unseen  had  revealed  itself  to  him  ? And  he 
must  find  it — for  logic  and  mathematics  could  not  err. 
If  every  step  was  correct,  the  conclusion  must  be  cor- 
rect also,  so  he  must  end,  after  all,  in  the  right  path 
— that  is,  of  course,  supposing  Christianity  to  be  the 
right  path — and  return  to  fight  the  Church's  battles, 
with  the  sword  which  he  had  wrested  from  Goliath 
the  Philistine.  . . . But  he  had  not  won  the  sword  yet: 
and  in  the  mean  while,  learning  was  weary  work;  and 
sufficient  for  the  day  was  the  good,  as  well  as  the  evil, 
thereof. 

So,  enabled  by  his  gold  coin  each  month  to  devote 
himself  entirely  to  study,  he  became  very  much  what 
Peter  would  have  coarsely  termed  a heathen.  At  first, 
indeed,  he  slipped  into  the  Christian  churches,  from  a 
habit  of  conscience.  But  habits  soon  grow  sleepy; 
the  fear  of  discovery  and  recapture  made  his  attend- 
ance more  and  more  of  a labor.  And  keeping  himself 
apart  as  much  as  possible  from  the  congregation,  as  a 
lonely  and  secret  worshipper,  he  soon  found  himself  as 
separate  from  them  in  heart  as  in  daily  life.  He  felt 
that  they,  and  even  more  than  they,  those  flowery  and 
bombastic  pulpit  rhetoricians,  who  were  paid  for  their 
sermons  by  the  clapping  and  cheering  of  the  congre- 
gation, were  not  thinking  of,  longing  after,  the  same 
things  as  himself.  Besides,  he  never  spoke  to  a Chris- 
tian; for  the  negress  at  his  lodgings  seemed  to  avoid 
him — whether  from  modest}^  or  terror,  he  could  not 
tell;  and  cut  off  thus  from  the  outward  “communion 
of  saints,"  he  found  himself  fast  parting  away  from 
the  inward  one.  So  he  went  no  more  to  church;  and 
looked  the  other  way,  he  hardly  knew  why,  whenever 


286 


HYPATIA. 


he  passed  the  Caesareum ; and  Cyril,  and  all  his  mighty 
organization,  became  to  him  another  world,  with  which 
he  had  even  less  to  do  than  with  those  planets  over 
his  head,  whose  mysterious  movements,  and  symbol- 
isms, and  influences  Hypatia’s  lectures  on  astronomy 
were  just  opening  before  his  bewildered  imagination. 

Hypatia  watched  all  this  with  growing  self-satisfac- 
tion, and  fed  herself  with  the  dream  that  through 
Philammon  she  might  see  her  wildest  hopes  realized. 
After  the  manner  of  woman,  she  crowned  him,  in  her 
own  imagination,  with  all  powers  and  excellences 
which  she  would  have  wished  him  to  possess,  as  well 
as  with  those  which  he  actually  manifested,  till  Phil- 
ammon would  have  been  as  much  astonished  as  self- 
glorified  could  he  have  seen  the  idealized  caricature 
of  himself  which  the  sweet  enthusiast  had  painted  for 
her  private  enjoyment.  They  were  blissful  months, 
those,  to  poor  Hypatia.  Orestes,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  had  neglected  to  urge  his  suit,  and  the  Iphige- 
nia  sacrifice  had  retired  mercifully  into  the  back- 
ground. Perhaps  she  should  be  able  now  to  accom- 
plish all  without  it.  And  yet — it  was  so  long  to  wait ! 
Years  might  pass  before  Philammon’s  education  was 
matured,  and  with  them  golden  opportunities  which 
might  never  recur  again. 

“Ah!”  she  sighed  at  times,  “that  Julian  had  lived 
a generation  later ! That  I could  have  brought  all  my 
hard-earned  treasures  to  the  feet  of  the  Poet  of  the 
Sun,  and  cried.  ‘ Take  me ! Hero,  warrior,  statesman, 
sage,  priest  of  the  God  of  light!  Take  thy  slave! 
Command  her — send  her  to  martyrdom,  if  thou  wilt!  ’ 
A pretty  price  would  that  have  been  wherewith  to 
buy  the  honor  of  being  the  meanest  of  thy  apostles, 
the  fellow-laborer  of  Iamblichus,  Maximus,  Libanius, 
and  the  choir  of  sages  who  upheld  the  throne  of  the 
last  true  Caesar!  ” 


She  stopped  in  her  walk  and  motioned  her  father  to  begin  a conversation  with 
Philammon. 


HYPATIA. 


289 


CHAPTER  XV. 

NEPHELOCOCCUGUIA. 

Hypatia  had  always  avoided  carefully  discussing’ 
with  Philammon  any  of  those  points  on  which  she  dif- 
fered from  his  former  faith.  She  was  content  to  let 
the  divine  light  of  philosophy  penetrate  by  its  own 
power,  and  educe  its  own  conclusions.  But  one  day,, 
at  the  very  time  at  which  this  history  reopens,  she 
was  tempted  to  speak  more  openly  to  her  pupil  than, 
she  yet  had  done.  Her  father  had  introduced  him,  a 
few  days  before,  to  a new  work  of  hers  on  Mathema- 
tics; and  the  delighted  and  adoring  look  with  which 
the  boy  welcomed  her,  as  he  met  her  in  the  Museum 
Gardens,  pardonably  tempted  her  curiosity  to  inquire 
what  miracles  her  own  wisdom  might  have  already 
worked.  She  stopped  in  her  walk,  and  motioned  her 
father  to  begin  a conversation  with  Philammon. 

"Well!"  asked  the  old  man,  with  an  encouraging 
smile,  " and  how  does  our  pupil  like  his  new ■" 

"You  mean  my  conic  sections,  father!  It  is  hardly 
fair  to  expect  an  unbiassed  answer  in  my  presence.” 

" Why  so  ? " said  Philammon.  " Why  should  I not 
tell  you,  as  well  as  all  the  world,  the  fresh  and  won- 
derful field  of  thought  which  they  have  opened  to  me 
in  a few  short  hours  ? " 

"What  then?”  asked  Hypatia,  smiling,  as  if  she 
knew  what  the  answer  would  be.  " In  what  does  my 
commentary  differ  from  the  original  text  of  Apollonius,K 
on  which  I have  so  faithfully  based  it  ? ” 

19 


290 


HYPATIA. 


“ Oh,  as  much  as  a living-  body  differs  from  a dead 
«one.  Instead  of  mere  dry  disquisitions  on  the  proper- 
ties of  lines  and  curves,  I found  a mine  of  poetry  and 
theology.  Every  dull  mathematical  formula  seemed 
transfigured,  as  if  by  a miracle,  into  the  symbol  of 
some  deep  and  noble  principle  of  the  unseen  world.” 

“And  do  you  think  that  he  of  Perga  did  not  see  as 
much  ? or  that  we  can  pretend  to  surpass,  in  depth  of 
insight,  the  sages  of  the  elder  world?  Be  sure  that 
they,  like  the  poets,  meant  only  spiritual  things,  even 
when  they  seem  to  talk  only  of  physical  ones,  and 
conceal  heaven  under  an  earthly  garb,  only  to  hide  it 
from  the  eyes  of  the  profane;  while  we,  in  these  de- 
generate days,  must  interpret  and  display  each  detail 
to  the  dull  ears  of  men.” 

“Do  you  think,  my  young  friend,”  asked  Theon, 
■“that  mathematics  can  be  valuable  to  the  philosopher 
otherwise  than  as  vehicles  of  spiritual  truth  ? Are  we 
to  study  numbers  merely  that  we  may  be  able  to  keep 
accounts;  or,  as  Pythagoras  did,  in  order  to  deduce 
from  their  laws  the  ideas  by  which  the  universe,  man. 
Divinity  itself,  subsists  ? ” 

“ That  seems  to  me  certainly  to  be  the  nobler  pur- 
pose.” 

“ Or  conic  sections,  that  we  may  know  better  how  to 
construct  machinery;  or  rather  to  devise  from  them 
symbols  of  the  relations  of  Deity  to  its  various  emana- 
tions ?” 

“You  use  your  dialect  like  Socrates  himself,  my 
father,”  said  Hypatia. 

“ If  I do,  it  is  only  for  a temporary  purpose.  I should 
be  sorry  to  accustom  Philammon  to  suppose  that  the 
essence  of  philosophy  was  to  be  found  in  those  minute 
investigations  of  words  and  analyses  of  notions,  which 
seem  to  constitute  Plato’s  chief  power  in  the  eyes  of 


HYPATIA. 


291 


those  who,  like  the  Christian  sophist  Augustine,  wor- 
ship his  letter  while  they  neglect  his  spirit;  not  seeing 
that  those  dialogues,  which  they  fancy  the  shrine  itself, 
are  but  vestibules " 

“ Say  rather,  veils,  father/' 

“Veils,  indeed,  which  were  intended  to  baffle  the 
rude  gaze  of  the  carnal-minded;  but  still  vestibules, 
through  which  the  enlightened  soul  might  be  led  up 
to  the  inner  sanctuary,  to  the  Hesperid  gardens  and 
golden  fruit  of  the  Timseus  and  the  oracles.  . . . And 
for  myself,  were  but  those  two  books  left,  I care  not 
whether  every  other  writing  in  the  world  perished  to- 
morrow." * 

“You  must  except  Homer,  father." 

“Yes,  for  the  herd.  . . . But  of  what  use  would  he 
be  to  them  without  some  spiritual  commentary?" 

“ He  would  tell  them  as  little,  perhaps,  as  the  circle 
tells  to  the  carpenter  who  draws  one  with  his  com- 
passes." 

“And  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  circle  ? " asked 
Philammon. 

“ It  may  have  infinite  meanings  like  every  other 
natural  phenomenon;  and  deeper  meanings  in  propor- 
tion to  the  exaltation  of  the  soul  which  beholds  it. 
But,  consider,  is  it  not,  as  the  one  perfect  figure,  the 
very  symbol  of  the  totality  of  the  spiritual  world; 
which,  like  it,  is  invisible  except  at  its  circumference, 
where  it  is  limited  by  the  dead  gross  phenomena  of 
sensuous  matter!  And  even  as  the  circle  takes  its 
origin  from  one  centre  itself  unseen — a point,  as  Euclid 
defines  it,  whereof  neither  parts  nor  magnitude  can  be 
predicted — does  not  the  world  of  spirits  revolve  round 
one  abysmal  being,  unseen  and  undefinable — in  itself, 

* This  astounding  speech  is  usually  attributed  to  Proclus, 
Hypatia’s  “great”  successor. 


292 


HYPATIA. 


as  I have  so  often  preached,  nothing',  for  it  is  conceiv- 
able only  by  the  negation  of  all  properties,  even  of  those 
of  reason,  virtue,  force : and  yet,  like  the  centre  of  the 
circle,  the  cause  of  all  other  existences  ? ” 

“I  see,”  said  Philammon;  for  the  moment,  certainly, 
the  said  abysmal  Deity  struck  him  as  a somewhat 
chill  and  barren  notion  . . . but  that  might  be  caused 
only  by  the  dulness  of  his  own  spiritual  perceptions. 
At  all  events,  if  it  was  a logical  conclusion,  it  must  be 
right. 

“Let  that  be  enough  for  the  present.  Hereafter 
you  may  be — I fancy  that  I know  you  well  enough  to 
prophesy  that  you  will  be — able  to  recognize  in  the 
equilateral  triangle  inscribed  within  the  circle,  and, 
touching  it  only  with  its  angles,  the  three  supra-sensual 
principles  of  existence,  which  are  contained  in  Deity 
as  it  manifests  itself  in  the  physical  universe,  coincid- 
ing* with  its  utmost  limits  and  yet,  like  it,  independent 
on  that  unseen  central  One  which  none  dare  name.” 
“Ah!  ” said  poor  Philammon,  blushing  scarlet  at  the 
sense  of  his  own  dulness,  “ I am,  indeed,  not  worthy  to 
have  such  wisdom  wasted  upon  my  imperfect  appre- 
hension. . . . But,  if  I may  dare  to  ask  . . . does  not 
Apollonius  regard  the  circle  like  all  other  curves,  as 
not  depending  primarily  on  its  own  centre  for  its  ex- 
istence, but  as  generated  by  the  section  of  any  cone  by 
a plane  at  right  angles  to  its  axis  ? ” 

“ But  must  we  not  draw,  or  at  least  conceive  a circle, 
in  order  to  produce  that  cone  ? And  is  not  the  axis  of 
that  cone  determined  by  the  centre  of  that  circle  ? ” 
Philammon  stood  rebuked. 

“Do  not  be  ashamed;  you  have  only  unwittingly 
laid  open  another,  and,  perhaps,  as  deep  a symbol. 
Can  you  guess  what  it  is  ? ” 

Philammon  puzzled  in  vain. 


HYPATIA. 


293 


“Does  it  not  show  you  this:  that,  as  every  con- 
ceivable right  section  of  the  cone  discloses  the  circle, 
so  in  all  which  is  fair  and  symmetric  you  will  discover 
Deity,  if  you  but  analyze  it  in  a right  and  symmetric 
direction  ? ” 

“ Beautiful ! ” said  Philammon,  while  the  old  man 
added — 

“And  does  it  not  show  us,  too,  how  the  one  perfect 
and  original  philosophy  may  be  discovered  in  all  great 
writers,  if  we  have  but  that  scientific  knowledge  which 
will  enable  us  to  extract  it  ? ” 

“True,  my  father:  but  just  now  I wish  Philammon, 
by  such  thoughts  as  I have  suggested,  to  rise  to  that 
higher  and  more  spiritual  insight  into  nature,  which 
reveals  her  to  us  as  instinct  throughout — all  fair  and 
noble  forms  of  her  at  least — with  Deity  itself ; to  make 
him  feel  that  it  is  not  enough  to  say,  with  the  Chris- 
tians, that  God  has  made  the  world,  if  we  make  that 
very  assertion  an  excuse  for  believing  that  His  pres- 
ence has  been  ever  since  withdrawn  from  it.” 

“ Christians,  I think,  would  hardly  say  that,”  said 
Philammon. 

“Not  in  words.  But,  in  fact,  they  regard  Deity  as 
the  maker  of  a dead  machine,  which,  once  made,  will 
move  of  itself  thenceforth,  and  repudiate  as  heretics 
every  philosophic  thinker,  whether  Gnostic  or  Platon- 
ist,  who,  unsatisfied  with  so  dead,  barren,  and  sordid 
a conception  of  the  glorious  all,  wishes  to  honor  the 
Deity  by  acknowledging  His  universal  presence,  and 
to  believe,  honestly,  the  assertion  of  their  own  Scrip- 
tures, that  He  lives  and  moves,  and  has  His  being  in 
the  universe.” 

Philammon  gently  suggested  that  the  passage  in 
question  was  worded  somewhat  differently  in  the  Scrip- 
ture. 


294 


HYPATIA. 


“ True.  But  if  the  one  be  true,  its  converse  vvill  be 
true  also.  If  the  universe  lives  and  moves,  and  has 
its  being-  in  Him,  must  He  not  necessarily  pervade  all 
things  ? ” 

“ Why  ? — Forgive  my  dulness  and  explain.” 

“ Because,  if  He  did  not  pervade  all  things,  those 
things  which  He  did  not  pervade  would  be  as  it  were 
interesting  in  His  being,  and  in  so  far,  without  Him.” 

“ True,  but  still  they  would  be  within  His  circumfer- 
ence.” 

“ Well  argued.  But  yet  they  would  not  live  in  Him, 
but  in  themselves.  To  live  in  Him  they  must  be  per- 
vaded by  His  life.  Do  you  think  it  possible — do  you 
think  it  even  reverent  to  affirm  that  there  can  be  any- 
thing within  the  infinite  glory  of  Deity  which  has  the 
power  of  excluding  from  the  space  which  it  occupies 
that  very  being  from  which  it  draws  its  worth,  and 
which  must  have  originally  pervaded  that  thing,  in 
order  to  bestow  on  it  its  organization  and  its  life  ? 
Does  He  retire,  after  creating,  from  the  spaces  which 
He  occupied  during  creation,  reduced  to  the  base  ne- 
cessity of  making  room  for  His  own  universe,  and  en- 
dure the  suffering — for  the  analogy  of  all  material  na- 
ture tells  us  that  it  is  suffering — of  a foreign  body,  like 
a thorn  within  the  flesh,  subsisting  within  His  own 
substance  ? Bather  believe  that  His  wisdom  and  splen- 
dor, like  a subtle  and  piercing  fire,  insinuates  itself 
eternally  with  resistless  force  through  every  organized 
atom,  and  that  were  it  withdrawn  but  for  an  instant 
from  the  petal  of  the  meanest  flower,  gross  matter, 
and  the  dead  chaos  from  which  it  was  formed,  would 
be  all  which  would  remain  of  its  loveliness.  . . . 

“ Yes  ” — she  went  on,  after  the  method  of  her  school, 
who  preferred,  like  most  decaying  ones,  harangues  to 
dialectic,  and  synthesis  to  induction.  . . . “ Look  at 


HYPATIA. 


295 


yon  lotus-flower,  rising*  like  Aphrodite  from  the  wave 
in  which  it  has  slept  throughout  the  nig*ht,  and  salut- 
ing with  bending  swan-neck,  that  sun  which  it  will  fol- 
low lovingly  around  the  sky.  Is  there  no  more  there 
than  brute  matter,  pipes  and  fibres,  color  and  shape, 
and  the  meaningless  life-in-death  which  men  call  vege- 
tation ? Those  old  Egyptian  priests  knew  better,  who 
could  see  in  the  number  and  the  form  of  those  ivory 
petals  and  golden  stamina,  in  that  mysterious  daily 
birth  out  of  the  wave,  in  that  nightly  baptism,  from 
which  it  rises  each  morning  re-born  to  a new  life,  the 
signs  of  some  divine  idea,  some  mysterious  law,  com- 
mon to  the  flower  itself,  to  the  white-robed  priestess 
who  held  it  in  the  temple-rites,  and  to  the  goddess  to 
whom  they  both  were  consecrated.  . . . The  flower  of 
Isis!  . . . Ah! — well.  Nature  has  her  sad  symbols, as 
well  as  her  fair  ones.  And  in  proportion  as  a mis- 
guided nation  has  forgotten  the  worship  of  her  to  whom 
they  owed  their  greatness,  for  novel  and  barbaric  su- 
perstitions, so  has  her  sacred  flower  grown  rarer  and 
more  rare,  till  now — fit  emblem  of  the  worship  over 
which  it  used  to  shed  its  perfume — it  is  only  to  be 
found  in  gardens  such  as  these — a curiosity  to  the  vul- 
gar, and,  to  such  as  me,  a lingering  monument  of  wfls- 
dom  and  of  glory  passed  away/’ 

Philammon,  it  may  be  seen,  was  far  advanced  by 
this  time;  for  he  bore  the  allusions  to  Isis  without  the 
slightest  shudder.  Nay — lie  dared  even  to  offer  con- 
solation to  the  beautiful  mourner. 

“ The  philosopher/'  he  said,  “ will  hardly  lament  the 
loss  of  a mere  outward  idolatry.  For  if,  as  you  seem 
to  think,  there  was  a root  of  spiritual  truth  in  the 
symbolism  of  nature,  that  cannot  die.  And  thus  the 
lotus-flower  must  still  retain  its  meaning,  as  long  as 
its  species  exist  on  earth." 


296 


HYPATIA. 


“ Idolatry!”  answered  she,  with  a smile.  “My  pupil 
must  not  repeat  to  me  that  worn-out  Christian  cal- 
umny. Into  whatsoever  low  superstitions  the  vulgar 
may  have  fallen,  it  is  the  Christians  now,  and  not  the 
heathens,  who  are  idolaters.  They  who  ascribe  mirac- 
ulous power  to  dead  men’s  bones,  who  make  temples 
of  charnel-houses,  and  bow  before  the  images  of  the 
meanest  of  mankind,  have  surely  no  right  to  accuse 
of  idolatry  the  Greek  or  the  Egyptian  who  embodies  in 
a form  of  symbolic  beauty  ideas  beyond  the  reach  of 
words ! 

“ Idolatry  ? Do  I worship  the  Pharos  when  I gaze 
at  it,  as  I do  for  hours,  with  loving  awe,  as  the  token 
to  me  of  the  all-conquering  might  of  Hellas  ? Do  I 
worship  the  roll  on  which  Homer’s  words  are  written, 
when  I welcome  with  delight  the  celestial  truths  which 
it  unfolds  to  me,  and  even  prize  and  love  the  material 
book  for  the  sake  of  the  message  which  it  brings  ? 
Do  you  fancy  that  any  but  the  vulgar  worship  the  im- 
age itself,  or  dream  that  it  can  help  or  hear  them  ? 
Does  the  lover  mistake  his  mistress’s  picture  for  the 
living,  speaking  reality?  We  worship  the  idea  of 
which  the  image  is  a symbol.  Will  you  blame  us  be- 
cause we  use  that  symbol  to  represent  the  idea  to  our 
own  affections  and  emotions,  instead  of  leaving  it  a 
barren  notion,  a vague  imagination  of  our  own  intel- 
lect?” 

“ Then,”  asked  Philammon,  with  a faltering  voice, 
yet  unable  to  restrain  his  curiosity,  “ then  }mu  do  rev- 
erence the  heathen  gods  ? ” 

Why  Hypatia  should  have  felt  his  question  a sore" 
one,  puzzled  Philammon;  but  she  evidently  did  feel  it 
as  such,  for  she  answered  haughtily  enough — 

“ If  Cyril  had  asked  me  that  question,  I should  have 
•disdained  to  answer.  To  you  I will  tell,  that  before  I 


HYPATIA. 


297 


can  answer  your  question  you  must  learn  what  those 
whom  you  call  heathen  gods  are.  The  vulgar,  or 
rather  those  who  find  it  their  interest  to  calumniate 
the  vulgar  for  the  sake  of  confounding  philosophers 
with  them,  may  fancy  them  mere  human  beings,  sub- 
ject like  man  to  the  sufferings  of  pain  and  love,  to  the 
limitations  of  personality.  We,  on  the  other  hand, 
have  been  taught  by  the  primeval  philosophers  of 
Greece,  by  the  priests  of  ancient  Egypt,  and  the  sages 
of  Babylon,  to  recognize  in  them  the  universal  powers 
of  nature,  those  children  of  the  all-quickening  spirit 
which  are  but  various  emanations  of  the  one  primeval 
unity — say,  rather,  various  phases  of  that  unity,  as  it 
has  been  variously  conceived,  according  to  the  differ- 
ences of  climate  and  race,  by  the  wise  of  different  na- 
tions. And  thus,  in  our  eyes,  he  who  reverences  the 
many,  worships  by  that  very  act,  with  the  highest  and 
fullest  adoration,  the  one  of  whose  perfection  they  are 
the  partial  antitypes;  perfect  each  in  themselves,  but 
each  the  image  of  only  one  of  its  perfections.” 

“ Why,  then,”  said  Philammon,  much  relieved  by 
this  explanation,  “ do  you  so  dislike  Christianity  ? may 

it  not  be  one  of  the  many  methods ?” 

“Because,”  she  answered,  interrupting  him  impa- 
tiently, “because  it  denies  itself  to  be  one  of  those 
many  methods,  and  stakes  its  existence  on  the  denial; 
because  it  arrogates  to  itself  the  exclusive  revelation 
of  the  Divine,  and  cannot  see,  in  its  self-conceit,  that 
its  own  doctrines  disprove  that  assumption  by  their 
similarity  to  those  of  all  creeds.  There  is  not  a dogma 
of  the  Galileans  which  may  not  be  found,  under  some 
form  or  other,  in  some  of  those  very  religions  from 
which  it  pretends  to  disdain  borrowing.” 

“ Except,”  said  Theon,  “ its  exaltation  of  all  which  is 
human  and  low-born,  illiterate  and  levelling.” 


298 


HYPATIA. 


“ Except  that But  look ! here  comes  some  one 

whom  I cannot — do  not  choose  to  meet.  Turn  this 
way — quick!  ” 

And  Hypatia,  turning-  pale  as  death,  drew  her  father 
with  unphilosophic  haste  down  a side- walk. 

“ Yes,”  she  went  on  to  herself,  as  soon  as  she  had  re- 
covered her  equanimity.  “ W ere  this  Galilean  super- 
stition content  to  take  its  place  humbly  among  the 
other  f religiones  licitas 9 of  the  empire,  one  might  tol- 
erate it  well  enough,  as  an  antropomorphic  adumbra- 
tion of  divine  things  fitted  for  the  base  and  toiling 
herd ; perhaps  peculiarly  fitted,  because  peculiarly  flat- 
tering to  them.  But  now 

“ There  is  Miriam  again,”  said  Philammon,  right 
before  us ! ” 

“ Miriam?”  asked  Hypatia,  severely.  “You  know 
her,  then  ? How  is  that  ? ” 

“ She  lodges  at  Eudsemon’s  house,  as  I do,”  answered 
Philammon,  frankly.  “Not  that  I ever  interchanged, 
or  wish  to  interchange,  a word  with  so  base  a creat- 
ure.” 

“ Do  not!  I charge  you! ” said  Hypatia,  almost  im- 
ploringly. But  there  was  now  no  way  of  avoiding 
her,  and  perforce  Hypatia  and  her  tormentress  met 
face  to  face. 

“ One  word ! one  moment,  beautiful  lady,”  began  the 
old  woman,  with  a slavish  obeisance.  “Nay,  do  not 
push  by  so  cruelly.  I have — see  what  I have  for  you ! ” 
and  she  held  out,  with  a mysterious  air,  “ The  Rainbow 
of  Solomon.” 

“Ah!  I knew  you  would  stop  a moment — not  for  the 
ring’s  sake  of  course,  nor  even  for  the  sake  of  one  who 
once  offered  it  to  you. — Ah!  and  where  is  he  now? 
Dead  of  love,  perhaps ! At  least,  here  is  his  last  token 
to  the  fairest  one,  the  cruel  one.  . . . Well,  perhaps 


HYPATIA. 


299 


she  is  right.  ...  To  be  an  empress— an  empress!  . . . 
Far  finer  than  anything  the  poor  Jew  could  have 
offered.  . . . But  still.  . . . An  empress  need  not  he 
above  hearing  her  subject's  petition."  . . . 

All  this  was  uttered  rapidly,  and  in  a wheedling  un- 
dertone, with  a continual  snaky  writhing  of  her  whole 
body,  except  her  eye,  which  seemed,  in  the  intense  fix- 
ity of  its  glare,  to  act  as  a fulcrum  for  all  her  limbs; 
and  from  that  eye,  as  long  as  it  kept  its  mysterious  hold, 
there  was  no  escaping. 

“ What  do  you  mean  ? What  have  I to  do  with  this 
ring?"  asked  Hypatia,  half  frightened. 

“He  who  owned  it  once  offers  it  to  you  now.  You 
recollect  a little  black  agate — a paltry  thing.  ...  If 
you  have  not  thrown  it  away,  as  you  most  likely  have, 
he  wishes  to  redeem  it  with  this  opal.  . . a gem  surely 
more  fit  for  such  a hand  as  that." 

“ He  gave  me  the  agate,  and  I shall  keep  it." 

“ But  this  opal — worth,  oh,  worth  ten  thousand  gold 
pieces — in  exchange  for  that  paltry  broken  thing  not 
worth  one  ? " 

“ I am  not  a dealer,  like  3rou,  and  have  not  yet  learned 
to  value  things  by  their  money  price.  If  that  agate 
had  been  worth  money,  I would  never  have  accepted 
it." 

“Take  the  ring,  take  it,  my  darling,"  whispered 
Theon  impatiently;  “it  will  pay  all  our  debts." 

“Ah,  that  it  will— pay  them  all,"  answered  the  old 
woman,  who  seemed  to  have  mysteriously  overheard 
him. 

“What! — my  father!  Would  you,  too,  counsel  me 
to  be  so  mercenary  ? My  good  woman,"  she  went  on, 
turning  to  Miriam,  “ I cannot  expect  you  to  under- 
stand the  reason  of  my  refusal.  You  and  I have  a 
different  standard  of  worth.  But,  for  the  sake  of  the 


300 


HYPATIA. 


talisman  engraven  on  that  agate,  if  for  no  other  rea- 
son, I cannot  give  it  up.” 

“ Ah ! for  the  sake  of  the  talisman ! That  is  wise, 
now!  That  is  noble!  Like  a philosopher!  Oh,  I will 
not  say  a word  more.  Let  the  beautiful  prophetess 
keep  the  agate,  and  take  the  opal  too ; for  see,  there 
is  a charm  on  it  also!  The  name  by  which  Solomon 
compelled  the  demons  to  do  his  bidding.  Look ! What 
might  you  not  do  now,  if  you  knew  how  to  use  that ! To 
have  great  glorious  angels,  with  six  wings  each,  bow- 
ing at  your  feet  whensoever  you  called  them,  and  say- 
ing, ‘ Here  am  I,  mistress ; send  me/  Only  look  at  it ! ” 
Hypatia  took  the  tempting  bait,  and  examined  it 
with  more  curiosity  than  she  would  have  wished  to 
confess;  while  the  old  woman  went  on: — 

“ But  the  wise  lady  knows  how  to  use  the  black 
agate,  of  course  ? Aben-Ezra  told  her  that,  did  he  not  ? ” 
Hypatia  blushed  somewhat;  she  was  ashamed  to 
confess  that  Aben-Ezra  had  not  revealed  the  secret  to 
her,  probably  not  believing  that  there  was  any,  and 
that  the  talisman  had  been  to  her  only  a curious  play- 
thing, of  which  she  liked  to  believe  one  day  that  it 
might  possibly  have  some  occult  virtue,  and  the  next 
day  to  laugh  at  the  notion  as  unpliilosophical  and  bar- 
baric ; so  she  answered,  rather  severely,  that  her  secrets 
were  her  own  property. 

“Ah,  then!  she  knows  it  all— the  fortunate  lady! 
And  the  talisman  has  told  her  whether  Heraclian  has 
lost  or  won  Rome  by  this  time,  and  whether  she  is  to 
be  the  mother  of  a new  dynasty  of  Ptolemies,  or  to  die 
a virgin,  which  the  Four  Angels  avert!  And  surely 
she  has  had  the  great  demon  come  to  her  already, 
when  she  rubbed  the  flat  side,  has  she  not  ? ” 

“ Go,  foolish  woman ! I am  not,  like  you,  the  dupe  of 
childish  superstitions.” 


HYPATIA. 


301 


“Childish  superstitions!  Ha!  ha!  ha!”  said  the 
old  woman,  as  she  turned  to  go,  with  obeisances  more 
lowly  than  ever.  “And  she  has  not  seen  the  Angels 
yet ! . . . Ah  well ! perhaps  some  day,  when  she  wants 
to  know  how  to  use  the  talisman,  the  beautiful  lady 
will  condescend  to  let  the  poor  old  Jewess  show  her 
the  way.” 

And  Miriam  disappeared  down  an  alley,  and  plunged 
into  the  thickest  shrubberies,  while  the  three  dreamers 
went  on  their  way. 

Little  thought  Hypatia  that  the  moment  the  old 
woman  had  found  herself  alone,  she  had  dashed  herself 
down  on  the  turf,  rolling  and  biting  at  the  leaves  like 
an  infuriated  wild  beast.  . . . “ I will  have  it  yet ! I 
will  have  it,  if  I tear  out  her  heart  with  it ! ” 


. 302 


HYPATIA, 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

VENUS  AND  PALLAS. 

As  Hypatia  was  passing'  across  to  her  lecture-room 
that  afternoon,  she  was  stopped  midway  by  a proces- 
sion of  some  twenty  Goths  and  damsels,  headed  by 
Pelagia  herself,  in  all  her  glory  of  jewels,  shawls,  and 
snow-white  mule;  while  by  her  side  rode  the  Amal, 
his  long  legs,  like  those  of  Gang-Rolf  the  Norseman, 
all  but  touching  the  ground,  as  he  crushed  down  with 
his  weight  a delicate  little  barb,  the  best  substitute  to 
be  found  in  Alexandria  for  the  huge  black  chargers  of 
his  native  land. 

On  they  came,  followed  by  a wondering  and  admir- 
ing mob,  straight  to  the  door  of  the  Museum,  and 
stopping  began  to  dismount,  while  their  slaves  took 
charge  of  the  mules  and  horses. 

There  was  no  escape  for  Hypatia;  pride  forbade  her 
to  follow  her  own  maidenly  instinct,  and  to  recoil  among 
the  crowd  behind  her;  and  in  another  moment  the 
Amal  had  lifted  Pelagia  from  her  mule,  and  the  rival 
beauties  of  Alexandria  stood,  for  the  first  time  in  their 
lives,  face  to  face. 

“ May  Athene  befriend  you  this  day,  Hypatia ! ” said, 
Pelagia,  with  her  sweetest  smile.  “ I have  brought 
my  guards  to  hear  somewhat  of  your  wisdom,  this 
afternoon.  I am  anxious  to  know  whether  you  can 
teach  them  anything  more  worth  listening  to  than 
the  foolish  little  songs  which  Aphrodite  taught  me, 


HYPATIA. 


303 


when  she  raised  me  from  the  sea-foam,  as  she  rose 
herself,  and  named  me  Pelagia.” 

Hypatia  drew  herself  up  to  her  stateliest  height, 
and  returned  no  answer. 

“ I think  my  body-guard  will  well  bear  comparison 
with  yours.  At  least  they  are  the  princes  and  de- 
scendants of  deities.  So  it  is  but  fitting  that  they 
should  enter  before  your  provincials.  Will  you  show 
them  the  way  ? ” 

No  answer. 

“Then  I must  doit  myself.  Come,  Amal!”  and  she 
swept  up  the  steps,  followed  by  the  Goths,  who  put 
the  Alexandrians  aside  right  and  left,  as  if  the}7  had 
been  children. 

“Ah!  treacherous  wanton  that  you  are!”  cried  a 
young  man’s  voice  out  of  the  murmuring  crowd. 
“After  having  plundered  us  of  every  coin  out  of  which 
you  could  dupe  us,  here  you  are  squandering  our 
patrimonies  on  barbarians ! ” 

“ Give  us  back  our  presents,  Pelagia,”  cried  another, 
“ and  you  are  welcome  to  your  herd  of  wild  bulls  ! ” 
“And  I will!”  cried  she,  stopping  suddenly;  and 
clutching  at  her  chains  and  bracelets,  she  was  on  the 
point  of  dashing  them  among  the  astonished  crowd, — 
“There!  take  your  gifts!  Pelagia  and  her  girls 
scorn  to  be  debtors  to  boys,  while  they  are  worshipped 
by  men  like  these  ! ” 

But  the  Amal,  who  luckily  for  the  students,  had  not 
understood  a word  of  this  conversation,  seized  her 
arm,  asking  if  she  were  mad. 

“No,  no!”  panted  she,  inarticulate  with  passion. 
“ Give  me  gold — every  coin  you  have.  These  wretches 
are  twitting  me  with  what  they  gave  me  before— be- 
fore— O Amal,  you  understand  me?”  And  she  clung 
imploringly  to  his  arm. 


304 


HYPATIA. 


“ Oh ! Heroes ! each  of  you  throw  his  purse  among 
these  fellows!  they  say  that  we  and  our  ladies  are  liv- 
ing on  their  spoils ! ” And  he  tossed  his  purse  among 
the  crowd. 

In  an  instant  every  Goth  had  followed  his  example: 
more  than  one  following  it  up  by  dashing  a bracelet 
or  necklace  into  the  face  of  some  hapless  philosophaster. 

“I  have  no  lady,  my  young  friends,”  said  old  Wulf, 
in  good  enough  Greek,  “ and  owe  you  nothing ; so  I 
shall  keep  my  money,  as  you  might  have  kept  yours; 
and  as  you  might,  too,  old  Smid,  if  you  had  been  as 
wise  as  I.” 

“ Don’t  be  stingy,  prince,  for  the  honor  of  the  Goths,” 
said  Smid,  laughing. 

“If  I take  in  gold  I pay  in  iron,”  answered  Wulf, 
drawing  half  out.  of  its  sheath  the  huge  broad  blade, 
at  the  ominous  brawn  stains  of  which  the  studentry 
recoiled ; and  the  whole  party  swept  into  the  empty 
lecture-room,  and  seated  themselves  at  their  ease  in 
the  front  ranks. 

Poor  Hypatia ! At  first  she  determined  not  to  lect- 
ure— then  to  send  for  Orestes — then  to  call  on  her 
students  to  defend  the  sanctity  of  the  Museum;  but 
pride,  as  well  as  prudence,  advised  her  better;  to  re- 
treat would  be  to  confess  herself  conquered — to  dis- 
grace philosophy — to  lose  her  hold  on  the  minds  of  all 
waverers.  Ho!  she  would  go  on  and  brave  every- 
thing, insults,  even  violence;  and  with  trembling  limbs 
and  pale  cheek,,  she  mounted  the  tribune  and  began. 

To  her  surprise  and  delight,  however,  her  barbarian 
auditors  were  perfectly  well-behaved.  Pelagia,  in 
childish  good-humor  at  her  triumph,  and  perhaps,  too, 
determined  to  show  her  contempt  for  her  adversary  by 
giving  her  every  chance,  enforced  silence  and  atten- 
tion, and  checked  the  tittering  of  the  girls,  for  a full 


Pulled  out  his  purse  and  laid  it  at  Hypatia’s  feet. 


20 


HYPATIA. 


307 


half-hour.  But  at  the  end  of  that  time  the  heavy 
breathing-  of  the  slumbering  Amal,  who  had  been  twice 
awoke  by  her,  resounded  unchecked  through  the  lec- 
ture-room, and  deepened  into  a snore ; for  Pelagia  her- 
self was  as  fast  asleep  as  he.  But  now  another  censor 
took  upon  himself  the  office  of  keeping  order.  Old 
Wulf,  from  the  moment  Hypatia  had  begun,  had  never 
taken  his  eyes  off  her  face;  and  again  and  again  the 
maiden’s  weak  heart  had  been  cheered,  as  she  saw  the 
smile  of  sturdy  intelligence  and  honest  satisfaction 
which  twinkled  over  that  scarred  and  bristly  visage; 
while  every  now  and  then  the  graybeard  wagged  ap- 
proval, until  she  found  herself,  long  before  the  end  of 
the  oration,  addressing  herself  straight  to  her  new 
admirer. 

At  last  it  was  over,  and  the  students  behind,  who 
had  sat  meekly  through  it  all,  without  the  slightest 
wish  to  “ upset  ” the  intruders,  who  had  so  thoroughly 
upset  them,  rose  hurriedly,  glad  enough  to  get  safe 
out  of  so  dangerous  a neighborhood.  But  to  their  as- 
tonishment, as  well  as  to  that  of  Hypatia,  old  Wulf 
rose  also,  and  stumbling  along  to  the  foot  of  the  tri- 
bune, pulled  out  his  purse,  and  laid  it  at  Hypatia’s  feet. 

“ What  is  this  ? ” asked  she,  half  terrified  at  the  ap- 
proach of  a figure  more  rugged  and  barbaric  than  she 
had  ever  beheld  before. 

“ My  fee  for  what  I have  heard  to-day.  You  are  a 
right  noble  maiden,  and  may  Freya  send  you  a hus- 
band worthy  of  you,  and  make  you  the  mother  of 
kings!  ” 

And  Wulf  retired  with  his  party. 

Open  homage  to  a rival,  before  her  very  face!  Pe- 
lagia felt  quite  inclined  to  hate  old  Wulf. 

But  at  least  he  was  the  only  traitor.  The  rest  of  the 
Goths  agreed  unanimously  that  H}^patia  was  a very 


308 


HYPATIA. 


foolish  person,  who  was  wasting*  her  youth  and  beauty 
in  talking  to  donkey-riders,  and  Pelagia  remounted 
her  mule,  and  the  Goths  their  horses,  for  a triumphal 
procession  homeward. 

And  yet  her  heart  was  sad,  even  in  her  triumph. 
Right  and  wrong  were  ideas  as  unknown  to  her  as 
they  were  to  hundreds  of  thousands  in  her  day.  As 
far  as  her  own  consciousness  was  concerned,  she  was 
as  destitute  of  a soul  as  the  mule  on  which  she  rode. 
Gifted  by  nature  with  boundless  frolic  and  good  humor, 
wit  and  cunning,  her  Greek  taste  for  the  physically 
beautiful  and  graceful  developed  by  long*  training,  un- 
til she  had  become,  without  a rival,  the  most  perfect 
pantomime,  dancer,  and  musician  who  catered  for  the 
luxurious  tastes  of  the  Alexandrian  theatres;  she  had 
lived  since  her  childhood  only  for  enjoyment  and  van- 
ity, and  wished  for  nothing  more.  But  her  new  affec- 
tion, or  rather  worship,  for  the  huge  manhood  of  her 
Gothic  lover  had  awoke  in  her  a new  object — to  keep 
him — to  live  for  him — to  follow  him  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  even  if  he  tired  of  her,  ill-used  her,  despised  her. 
And  slowly,  day  by  day,  Wulfs  sneers  awakened  in 
her  a dread  that  perhaps  the  Amal  might  despise 
her.  . . . Why,  she  could  not  guess:  but  what  sort 
of  women  were  those  Alrunas,  of  whom  Wulf  sung,  of 
whom  even  the  Amal  and  his  men  spoke  with  rever- 
ence, as  something  nobler,  not  only  than  her,  but  even 
than  themselves?  And  what  was  it  which  Wulf  had 
recognized  in  Hypatia  which  had  bowed  the  stern  and 
coarse  old  warrior  before  her  in  that  public  homage  ? 

. . . It  was  not  difficult  to  say  what.  . . . But  why 
should  that  make  Hypatia  or  any  one  else  attractive  ? 

. . . And  the  poor  little  child  of  nature  gazed  in  deep 
bewilderment  at  a crowd  of  new  questions,  as  a but- 
terfly might  at  the  pages  of  the  book  on  which  it  has 


HYPATIA. 


309 


settled,  and  was  sad  and  discontented — not  with  herself, 
for  was  she  not  Pelagia  the  perfect  ? — but  with  these 
strange  fancies  which  came  into  other  people's  heads. 
— Why  should  not  every  one  be  as  happy  as  they  could  ? 
And  who  knew  better  than  she  how  to  be  happy,  and 
to  make  others  happy  ? 

“ Look  at  that  old  monk  standing  on  the  pavement, 
Amalric ! Why  does  he  stare  so  at  me  ? Tell  him  to 
go  away." 

The  person  at  whom  she  pointed,  a delicate-featured 
old  man,  with  a venerable  white  beard,  seemed  to  hear 
her;  for  he  turned  with  a sudden  start,  and  then,  to 
Pelagia’s  astonishment,  put  his  hands  before  his  face 
and  burst  convulsively  into  tears. 

“ What  does  he  mean  by  behaving  in  that  way? 
Bring  him  here  tome  this  moment!  I will  know!" 
cried  she,  petulantly,  catching  at  the  new  object,  in 
order  to  escape  from  her  own  thoughts. 

In  a moment  a Goth  had  led  up  the  weeper,  who 
came  without  demur,  to  the  side  of  Pelagia's  mule. 

“ Why  were  you  so  rude  as  to  burst  out  crying  in 
my  face  ? " asked  she,  petulantly. 

The  old  man  looked  up  sadly  and  tenderly,  and  an- 
swered in  a low  voice,  meant  only  for  her  ear — 

“ And  how  can  I help  weeping,  when  I see  anything 
as  beautiful  as  you  are  destined  to  the  flames  of  hell 
forever  ? " 

“ The  flames  of  hell  ? " said  Pelagia,  with  a shudder. 
“ What  for  ?" 

“ Bo  you  not  know  ? " asked  the  old  man,  with  a look 
of  sad  surprise.  “ Have  you  forgotten  what  you  are  ? " 

“ I ? I never  hurt  a fly ! " 

“ Why  do  you  look  so  terrified,  my  darling  ? What 
have  you  been  saying  to  her,  you  old  villain  ? " and  the 
Amal  raised  his  whip. 


310 


HYPATIA. 


“ Oh ! do  not  strike  him.  Come,  come  to-morrow, 
and  tell  me  what  you  mean.” 

“No,  we  will  have  no  monks  within  our  doors, 
frightening'  silly  women.  OlT,  sirrah!  and  thank  the 
lady  that  you  have  escaped  with  a Avliole  skin.”  And 
the  Amal  caught  the  bridle  of  Pelagia’s  mule,  and 
pushed  forward,  leaving  the  old  man  gazing  sadly  after 
them. 

But  the  beautiful  sinner  was  evidently  not  the  ob- 
ject which  had  brought  the  old  monk  of  the  desert 
into  a neighborhood  so  strange  and  ungenial  to  his 
habits;  for  recovering  himself  in  a few  moments,  he 
hurried  on  to  the  door  of  the  Museum,  and  there 
planted  himself,  scanning  earnestly  the  faces  of  the 
passers-out,  and  meeting,  of  course,  with  his  due  share 
of  student  ribaldry. 

“Well,  old  cat,  and  what  mouse  are  you  on  the 
watch  for,  at  the  hole’s  mouth  here  ? ” 

“ Just  come  inside,  and  see  whether  the  mice  will  not 
singe  your  whiskers  for  you.”  . . . 

“ Here’s  my  mouse,  gentlemen,”  answered  the  old 
monk,  with  a bow  and  a smile,  as  he  laid  his  hand  on 
Philammon’s  arm,  and  presented  to  his  astonished 
eyes  the  delicate  features  and  high  retreating  fore- 
head of  Arsenius. 

“ My  father,”  cried  the  boy,  in  the  first  impulse  of 
affectionate  recognition  ; and  then — he  had  expected 
some  such  meeting  all  along,  but  now  it  had  come  at 
last,  he  turned  pale  as  death.  The  students  saw  his 
emotion. 

“ Hands  off,  old  Heautontimoroumenos ! He  belongs 
to  our  guild  now!  Monks  have  no  more  business  with 
sons  than  with  wives.  Shall  we  hustle  him  for  you, 
Philammon  ? ” 

“ Take  care  how  you  show  off,  gentlemen : the  Goths 


HYPATIA. 


311 


are  not  yet  out  of  hearing!”  answered  Philammon, 
who  was  learning  fast  how  to  give  a smart  answer; 
and  then,  fearing  the  temper  of  the  young  dandies,  and 
shrinking  from  the  notion  of  any  insult  to  one  so 
reverend  and  so  beloved  as  Arsenius,  he  drew  the  old 
man  gently  away,  and  walked  up  the  street  with  him 
in  silence,  dreading  what  was  coming. 

“ And  are  these  your  friends  ? ” 

“ Heaven  forbid ! I have  nothing  in  common  with 
such  animals  but  flesh  and  blood,  and  a seat  in  the 
lecture-room.” 

“ Of  the  heathen  woman  ?” 

Philammon,  after  the  fashion  of  young  men  in  fear, 
rushed  desperately  into  the  subject  himself,  just  be- 
cause he  dreaded  Arsenius’s  entering  on  it  quietly. 

“Yes,  of  the  heathen  woman.  Of  course  you  have 
seen  Cyril  before  you  came  hither  ? ” 

“ I have,  and ” 

“And,”  went  on  Philammon,  interrupting  him,  “you 
have  been  told  every  lie  which  prudence,  stupidity,  and 
revenge  can  invent.  That  I have  trampled  on  the 
Cross — sacrificed  to  all  the  deities  in  the  pantheon — 
and  probabty  ” — (and  he  blushed  scarlet) — “ that  that 
purest  and  holiest  of  beings — who,  if  she  were  not  what 
people  call  a pagan,  would  be,  and  deserves  to  be, 
worshipped  as  the  queen  of  saints — that  she — and 
I ” and  he  stopped. 

“ Have  I said  that  I believed  what  I may  have 
heard  ? ” 

“ No — and  therefore,  as  they  are  all  simple  and  sheer 
falsehoods,  there  is  no  more  to  be  said  on  the  subject. 
Not  that  I shall  not  be  delighted  to  answer  any  ques- 
tions of  yours,  my  dearest  father.” 

“ Have  I asked  any,  my  child  ?” 

“No.  So  we  may  as  well  change  the  subject  for  the 


312 


HYPATIA. 


present,” — and  he  began  overwhelming  the  old  man 
with  inquiries  about  himself,  Pambo,  and  each  and  all 
of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Laura  to  which  Arsenius, 
to  the  boy’s  infinite  relief,  answered  cordially  and  mi- 
nutely, and  even  vouchsafed  a smile  at  some  jest  of 
Pliilamm on’s  on  the  contrast  between  the  monks  of 
Nitria  and  those  of  Scetis. 

Arsenius  was  too  wise  not  to  see  well  enough  what 
all  this  flippancy  meant;  and  too  wise,  also,  not  to 
know  that  Philammon’s  version  was  probably  quite  as 
near  the  truth  as  Peter’s  and  Cyril’s  ; but  for  reasons 
of  his  own  merely  replied  by  an  affectionate  look,  and 
a compliment  to  Philammon’s  growth. 

“ And  yet  you  seem  thin  and  pale,  my  boy.” 

“ Study,”  said  Philammon,  “ study.  One  cannot 
burn  the  midnight  oil  without  paying  some  penalty  for 
it.  . . . However,  I am  richly  repaid  already  ; I shall 
be  more  so  hereafter.” 

“ Let  us  hope  so.  But  who  are  those  Goths  whom 
I passed  in  the  streets  just  now  ? ” 

“ Ah ! my  father,”  said  Philammon,  glad  in  his  heart 
of  any  excuse  to  turn  the  conversation,  yet  half  un- 
easy and  suspicious  at  Arsenius’s  evident  determina- 
tion to  avoid  the  very  object  of  his  visit.  “ It  must 
have  been  you,  then,  whom  I saw  stop  and  speak  to 
Pelagia  at  the  farther  end  of  the  street.  What  words 
could  you  possibly  have  had  wherewith  to  honor  such 
a creature  ? ” 

“God  knows.  Some  secret  sympathy  touched  my 
heart.  . . . Alas!  poor  child!  But  how  came  you  to 
know  her  ? ” 

“All  Alexandria  knows  the  shameless  abomination,” 
interrupted  a voice  at  their  elbow ; — none  other  than 
that  of  the  little  porter,  who  had  been  dodging  and 
watching  the  pair  the  whole  way,  and  could  no  longer 


HYPATIA. 


313 


restrain  his  longing  to  meddle.  “ And  well  it  had  been 
for  many  a rich  young  man  had  old  Miriam  never 
brought  her  over,  in  an  evil  day,  from  Athens  hither.” 

“ Miriam  ? ” 

“ Yes,  monk;  a name  not  unknown,  I am  told,  in 
palaces  as  well  as  in  slave-markets.” 

“An  evil-eyed  old  Jewess?” 

“A  Jewess  she  is,  as  her  name  might  have  informed 
you  ; and  as  for  her  eyes,  I consider  them,  or  used  to 
do  so,  of  course — for  her  injured  nation  have  been  long 
expelled  from  Alexandria  by  your  fanatic  tribe — as 
altogether  divine  and  demoniac,  let  the  base  imagina- 
tion of  monks  call  them  what  it  likes.” 

“ But  how  did  you  know  this  Pelagia,  my  son  ? She 
is  not  fit  company  for  such  as  you.” 

Philammon  told,  honestly  enough,  the  story  of  his 
Nile  journey,  and  Pelagia’s  invitation  to  him. 

“You  did  not  surely  accept  it  ? ” 

“ Heaven  forbid  that  Hypatia’s  scholar  should  so 
degrade  himself.” 

Arsenius  shook  his  head  sadly. 

“You  would  not  have  had  me  go  ?” 

“No,  boy.  But  how  long  hast  thou  learned  to  call 
thyself  Hypatia’s  scholar,  or  to  call  it  a deg’radation 
to  visit  the  most  sinful,  if  thou  mightest  thereby  bring 
back  a lost  lamb  to  the  Good  Shepherd  ? Neverthe- 
less, thou  art  too  young  for  such  employment — and 
she  meant  to  tempt  thee,  doubtless.” 

“ Ido  not  think  it.  She  seemed  struck  by  my  talk- 
ing Athenian  Greek,  and  having  come  from  Athens.” 

“ And  how  long  since  she  came  from  Athens  ? ” said 
Arsenius,  after  a pause.  “ Who  knows  ? ” 

“ Just  after  it  was  sacked  by  the  barbarians,”  said 
the  little  porter,  who,  beginning  to  suspect  a mystery, 
was  peaking  and  peering  like  an  excited  parrot.  “ The 


314 


HYPATIA. 


old  dame  brought  her  hither  among  a cargo  of  cap- 
tive boys  and  girls.” 

“ The  time  agrees.  . . . Can  this  Miriam  be  found  ? ” 

“ A sapient  and  courteous  question  for  a monk  to 
ask!  Do  you  not  know  that  Cyril  has  expelled  all 
Jews  four  months  ago  ? ” 

“ True,  true.  . . . Alas ! ” said  the  old  man  to  him- 
self, “how  little  the  rulers  of  this  world  guess  their 
own  power!  They  move  a finger  carelessly,  and  for- 
get that  that  finger  may  crush  to  death  hundreds 
whose  names  they  never  heard — and  every  soul  of  them 
as  precious  in  God’s  sight  as  Cyril’s  own.” 

“ What  is  the  matter,  my  father  ? ” asked  Philam- 
mon.  “ Y ou  seem  deeply  moved  about  this  woman.” 

“ And  she  is  Miriam’s  slave  ? ” 

“ Her  freed  worn  an  this  four  years  past,”  said  the 
porter.  “ The  good  lady — for  reasons  doubtless  excel- 
lent in  themselves,  though  not  altogether  patent  to 
the  philosophic  mind — thought  good  to  turn  her  loose 
on  the  Alexandrian  republic,  to  seek  what  she  might 
devour.” 

“God  help  her!  And  you  are  certain  that  Miriam 
is  not  in  Alexandria  ? ” 

The  little  porter  turned  very  red,  and  Philammon 
did  so  likewise;  but  he  remembered  his  promise,  and 
kept  it. 

“You  both  know  something  of  her,  I can  see.  You 
cannot  deceive  an  old  statesman,  sir ! ” — turning  to  the 
little  porter  with  a look  of  authority — “ Poor  monk 
though  he  be  now.  If  you  think  fitting  to  tell  me 
what  you  know,  I promise  you  neither  she  nor  you  shall 
be  the  losers  by  your  confidence  in  me.  If  not,  I shall 
find  means  to  discover.” 

Both  stood  silent. 

“ Philammon,  my  son ! and  art  thou  too  in  league 


HYPATIA. 


315 


against — no,  not  against  me  ; against  thyself,  poor 
misguided  boy  ? ” 

“Against  myself?” 

“ Yes — I have  said  it.  But  unless  you  will  trust  me, 
I cannot  trust  you.” 

“ I have  promised.” 

“ And  I,  sir,  statesman,  or  monk,  or  both,  or  neither, 
have  sworn  by  the  immortal  gods!”  said  the  porter, 
looking  very  big. 

Arsenius  paused. 

“ There  are  those  who  hold  that  an  oath  by  an  idol, 
being  nothing,  is  of  itself  void.  I do  not  agree  with 
them.  If  thou  thinkest  it  sin  to  break  thine  oath,  to 
thee  it  is  sin.  And  for  thee,  my  poor  child,  thy  promise 
is  sacred,  were  it  made  to  Iscariot  himself.  But  hear 
me.  Can  either  of  you,  by  asking  this  woman,  be  so 
far  absolved  as  to  give  me  speech  of  her  ? Tell  her — 
that  is,  if  she  be  in  Alexandria,  which  God  grant — all 
that  has  passed  between  us  here,  and  tell  her,  on  the 
solemn  oath  of  a Christian,  that  Arsenius  whose  name 
she  knows  well,  will  neither  injure  nor  betray  her.  Will 
you  do  this  ? ” 

“ Arsenius  ? ” said  the  little  porter,  with  a look  of 
mingled  awe  and  pity. 

The  old  man  smiled.  “ Arsenius  who  was  once  called 
the  Father  of  the  Emperors.  Even  she  will  trust  that 
name.” 

“ I will  go  this  moment,  sir  ; I will  fly ! ” and  off 
rushed  the  little  porter. 

“The  little  fellow  forgets,”  said  Arsenius,  with  a 
smile,  “to  how  much  he  has  confessed  already,  and 
how  easy  it  were  to  trace  him  to  the  old  hag’s  lair. 
. . . Philammon,  my  son  ...  I have  many  tears  to 
weep  over  thee — but  they  must  wait  awhile.  I have 
thee  safe  now,”  and  the  old  man  clutched  his  arm. 


316 


HYPATIA. 


“ Thou  wilt  not  leave  thy  poor  old  father  ? Thou  wilt 
not  desert  me  for  the  heathen  woman  ? ” 

“ I will  stay  with  you,  I promise  you,  indeed ! if — if 
you  will  not  say  unjust  things  of  her.” 

“ I will  speak  evil  of  no  one,  accuse  no  one,  but  my- 
self. I will  not  say  one  harsh  word  to  thee,  my  poor 
boy.  But  listen;  thou  kno west  that  thou  earnest  from 
Athens.  Kno  west  thou  that  it  was  I who  brought 
thee  hither  ? ” 

“You?” 

“ I,  my  son : but  when  I brought  thee  to  the  Laura, 
it  seemed  right  that  thou,  as  the  son  of  a noble  gen- 
tleman, sliouldst  hear  nothing  of  it.  But  tell  me  ; dost 
thou  recollect  father  or  mother,  brother  or  sister;  or 
anything  of  thy  home  in  Athens  ? ” 

“ No!  ” 

“Thanks  be  to  God.  But,  Philammon,  if  thou  hadst 

had  a sister — hush ! And  if — I only  say  if ” 

“ A sister ! ” interrupted  Philammon.  “ Pelagia  ? ” 

“ God  forbid,  my  son!  But  a sister  thou  hadst  once 
— some  three  years  older  than  thee  she  seemed.” 

“ What ! did  you  know  her  ? ” 

“ I saw  her  but  once — on  one  sad  day.  Poor  chil- 
dren both ! I will  not  sadden  you  by  telling  you  where 
and  how.” 

“ And  why  did  you  not  bring  her  hither  with  me  ? 
You  surely  had  not  the  heart  to  part  us?” 

“ Ah,  my  son,  what  right  had  an  old  monk  with  a 
fair  young  girl?  And,  indeed,  even  had  I had  the 
courage,  it  would  have  been  impossible.  There  were 
others,  richer  than  I,  to  whose  covetousness  her  youth 
and  beauty  seemed  a precious  prize.  When  I saw  her 
last,  she  was  in  company  with  an  ancient  Jewess. 
Heaven  grant  that  this  Miriam  may  prove  to  be  the 
one!  ” 


HYPATIA. 


317 


“ And  I have  a sister ! ” gasped  Pliilammon,  his  eyes 
bursting  with  tears.  “We  must  find  her!  You  will 
help  me  ? — Now — this  moment!  There  is  nothing  else 
to  be  thought  of,  spoken  of,  done,  henceforth,  till  she 
is  found ! ” 

“ Ah,  my  son,  my  son  ! Better,  better,  perhaps,  to 
leave  her  in  the  hands  of  God!  What  if  she  were 
dead  ? To  discover  that,  would  be  to  discover  needless 
sorrow.  And  what  if — God  grant  that  it  be  not  so! 
she  had  only  a name  to  live,  and  were  dead,  worse  than 
dead,  in  sinful  pleasure ? ” 

“We  would  save  her,  or  die  trying  to  save  her!  Is 
it  not  enough  for  me  that  she  is  my  sister  ? ” 

Arsenius  shook  his  head.  He  little  knew  the  strange 
new  light  and  warmth  which  his  words  had  poured  in 
upon  the  young  heart  beside  him.  . . . “ A sister ! ” 
What  mysterious  virtue  was  there  in  that  simple 
word,  which  made  Philammon’s  brain  reel  and  his 
heart  throb  madly  ? A sister ! not  merely  a friend,  an 
equal,  a helpmate,  given  by  God  himself,  for  loving 
whom  none,  not  even  a monk,  could  blame  him.  Not 
merely  something  delicate,  weak,  beautiful — for  of 
course  she  must  be  beautiful — whom  he  might  cherish, 
guide,  support,  deliver,  die  for,  and  find  death  delicious. 
Yes,  all  that,  and  more  than  that,  lay  in  the  sacred 
word.  For  those  divided  and  partial  notions  had  flit- 
ted across  his  mind  too  rapidly  to  stir  such  passion  as 
moved  him  now;  even  the  hint  of  her  sin  and  danger 
had  been  heard  heedlessly,  if  heard  at  all.  It  was  the 
word  itself  which  bore  its  own  message,  its  own  spell 
to  the  heart  of  the  fatherless  and  motherless  found- 
ling, as  he  faced  for  the  first  time  the  deep,  everlasting, 
divine  reality  of  kindred.  ...  A sister!  of  his  own 
flesh  and  blood — born  of  the  same  father,  the  same 
mother — his,  his,  forever!  How  hollow  and  fleeting 


318 


HYPATIA. 


seemed  all  “spiritual  sonships,”  “spiritual  daughter- 
hoods,”  inventions  of  the  changing  fancy,  the  way- 
ward will  of  man!  Arsenius — Pambo — ay,  Hypatia 
herself — what  were  they  to  him  now  ? Here  was  a 
real  relationship.  ...  A sister!  What  else  was 
worth  caring  for  upon  earth  ? 

“And  she  was  at  Athens  when  Pelagia  was” — he 
cried  at  last — “ perhaps  knew  her — let  us  go  to  Pelagia 
herself ! ” 

“ Heaven  forbid ! ” said  Arsenius.  “We  must  wait 
at  least  till  Miriam’s  answer  comes.” 

“I  can  show  you  her  house  at  least  in  the  mean 
while;  and  you  can  go  in  yourself  when  you  will.  I do 
not  ask  to  enter.  Come ! I feel  certain  that  my  find- 
ing her  is  in  some  way  bound  up  with  Pelagia.  Had 
I not  met  her  on  the  Nile,  had  you  not  met  her  in  the 
street,  I might  never  have  heard  that  I had  a sister. 
And  if  she  went  with  Miriam,  Pelagia  must  know  her 
— she  may  be  in  that  very  house  at  this  moment!” 

Arsenius  had  his  reasons  for  suspecting  that  Phi- 
lammon  was  but  too  right.  But  he  contented  himself 
with  yielding  to  the  boy’s  excitement,  and  set  off  with 
him  in  the  direction  of  the  dancer’s  house. 

They  were  within  a few  yards  of  the  gate,  when 
hurried  footsteps  behind  them,  and  voices  calling  them 
by  name,  made  them  turn,  and  behold,  evidently  to 
the  disgust  of  Arsenius  as  much  as  Philammon  him- 
self, Peter  the  Reader  and  a large  party  of  monks ! 

Philammon’s  first  impulse  was  to  escape  ; Arsenius 
himself  caught  him  by  the  arm,  and  seemed  inclined 
to  hurry  on. 

“No!”  thought  the  youth,  “am  I not  a freeman, 
and  a philosopher  ? ” and  facing  round,  he  awaited  the 
enemy. 

“Ah,  young  apostate!  So  you  have  found  him, 


HYPATIA. 


319 


reverend  and  ill-used  sir.  Praised  be  Heaven  for  this 
rapid  success ! ” 

“ My  good  friend,”  asked  Arsenius,  in  a trem  bling 
voice,  “ what  brings  you  here  ? ” 

“ Heaven  forbid  that  I should  have  allowed  your 
sanctity  and  age  to  go  forth  without  some  guard 
against  the  insults  and  violence  of  this  wretched  youth 
and  his  profligate  companions.  We  have  been  follow- 
ing you  afar  off  all  the  morning,  with  hearts  full  of 
filial  solicitude.” 

“ Many  thanks  ; but  indeed  your  kindness  has  been 
superfluous.  My  son  here,  from  whom  I have  met  with 
nothing  but  affection,  and  whom,  indeed,  I believe  far 
more  innocent  than  report  declared  him,  is  about  to  re- 
turn peaceably  with  me.  Are  you  not,  Philammon  ? ” 
“ Alas ! my  father,”  said  Philammon,  with  an  effort, 
“ how  can  I find  courage  to  say  it  ? — but  I cannot  re- 
turn with  you.” 

“ Cannot  return  ? ” 

“ I vowed  that  I would  never  again  cross  that  thresh- 
old till ” 

“ And  Cyril  does.  He  bade  me,  indeed  he  bade  me, 
assure  you  that  he  would  receive  you  back  as  a son, 
and  forgive  and  forget  all  the  past.” 

“ Forgive  and  forget  ? That  is  my  part — not  his. 
Will  he  right  me  against  that  tyrant  and  his  crew  ? 
Will  he  proclaim  me  openly  to  be  an  innocent  and 
persecuted  man,  unjustly  beaten  and  driven  forth  for 
obeying  his  own  commands  ? Till  he  does  that,  I shall 
not  forget  that  I am  a free  man.” 

“ A free  man  ? ” said  Peter,  with  an  unpleasant 
smile : “ that  remains  to  be  proved,  my  gay  youth : 
and  will  need  more  evidence  than  that  smart  philoso- 
phic cloak  and  those  well-curled  locks  which  you  have 
adopted  since  I saw  you  last.” 


320 


HYPATIA. 


f<  Remains  to  be  proved  ? ” 

Arsenius  made  an  imploring  gesture  to  Peter  to  be 
silent. 

“ Nay,  sir.  As  I foretold  to  you,  this  one  way  alone 
remains : the  blame  of  it,  if  there  be  blame,  must  rest 
on  the  unhappy  youth  whose  perversity  renders  it 
necessary.” 

“ For  God’s  sake,  spare  me ! ” cried  the  old  man,  drag- 
ging Peter  aside,  while  Philammon  stood  astonished, 
divided  between  indignation  and  vague  dread. 

“ Did  I not  tell  you  again  and  again  that  I never 
could  bring  myself  to  call  a Christian  man  my  slave  ? 
And  him  above  all,  my  spiritual  son  ? ” 

“And,  most  reverend  sir,  whose  zeal  is  only  sur- 
passed by  your  tenderness  and  mercy,  did  not  the 
holy  patriarch  assure  you  that  your  scruples  were 
groundless  ? Do  you  think  that  either  he  or  I can 
have  less  horror  than  you  have  of  slavey  in  itself  ? 
Heaven  forbid  ! But  when  an  immortal  soul  is  at 
stake — when  a lost  lamb  is  to  be  brought  back  to  the 
fold — surely  you  may  employ  the  authority  which  the 
law  gives  you  for  the  salvation  of  that  precious  charge 
committed  to  you  ? What  could  be  more  conclusive 
than  his  Holiness’s  argument  this  morning  ? ‘ Chris- 

tians are  bound  to  obey  the  laws  of  this  world  for 
conscience’  sake  even  though,  in  the  abstract,  they  may 
disapprove  of  them,  and  deny  their  authority.  Then 
by  parity  of  reasoning  it  must  be  lawful  for  them  to 
take  the  advantage  which  those  same  laws  offer  them, 
when  by  so  doing  the  glory  of  God  may  be  ad- 
vanced.’ ” 

Arsenius  still  hung  back,  with  eyes  brimming  with 
tears;  Philammon  himself  put  an  end  to  the  parley. 

“ What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ? Are  you,  too,  in 
a conspiracy  against  me  ? Speak,  Arsenius  ! ” 


HYPATIA. 


321 


“ This  is  the  meaning-  of  it,  blinded  sinner  ! ” cried 
Peter.  “ That  you  are  by  law  the  slave  of  Arsenius, 
lawfully  bought  with  his  money  in  the  city  of  Ra- 
venna; and  that  he  has  the  power,  and,  as  I trust,  for 
the  sake  of  your  salvation,  the  will  also,  to  compel  you 
to  accompany  him.” 

Philammon  recoiled  across  the  pavement,  with  eyes 
flashing  defiance.  A slave  ! The  light  of  heaven 
grew  black  to  him.  . . . Oh,  that  Hypatia  might  never 
know  his  shame  ! Yet  it  was  impossible.  Too  dread- 
ful to  be  true.  . . . 

“ You  lie  !”  almost  shrieked  he.  “ I am  the  son  of 
a noble  citizen  of  Athens.  Arsenius  told  me  so,  but 
this  moment,  with  his  own  lips  ! ” 

“ Ay,  but  he  bought  you — bought  you  in  the  public 
market  and  he  can  prove  it ! ” 

“ Hear  me — hear  me,  my  son ! ” cried  the  old  man, 
springing  toward  him.  Philammon,  in  his  fury,  mis- 
took the  gesture  and  thrust  him  fiercely  back. 

“Your  son? — your  slave!  Do  not  insult  the  name 
of  son  by  applying  it  to  me.  Yes,  sir;  your  slave  in 
body,  but  not  in  soul ! Ay,  seize  me — drag  home  the 
fugitive — scourge  him — brand  him — chain  him  in  the 
mill,  if  you  can;  but  even  for  that  the  free  heart  has 
a remedy.  If  you  will  not  let  me  live  as  a philosopher, 
.you  shall  see  me  die  like  one!” 

“ Seize  the  fellow,  my  brethren ! ” cried  Peter,  while 
Arsenius,  utterly  unable  to  restrain  either  party,  hid 
his  face  and  wept. 

“Wretches!”  cried  the  boy;  “you  shall  never  take 
me  alive,  while  I have  teeth  or  nails  left.  Treat  me  as 
a brute  beast,  and  I will  defend  myself  as  such ! ” 

“Out  of  the  way  there,  rascals!  Place  for  the  pre* 
feet ! What  are  you  squabbling  about  here,  you  un- 
mannerly monks?”  shouted  peremptory  voices  be- 
21 


322 


HYPATIA. 


Iiind.  The  crowd  parted,  and  disclosed  the  apparitors 
-of  Orestes,  who  followed  in  his  robes  of  office. 

A sudden  hope  flashed  before  Pliilammon,  and  in  an 
instant  he  had  burst  through  the  mob,  and  was  cling- 
ing to  the  prefect's  chariot. 

“ I am  a free-born  Athenian,  whom  these  monks  wish 
to  kidnap  back  into  slavery ! I claim  your  protection ! " 

“ And  you  shall  have  it,  right  or  wrong,  my  hand- 
some fellow.  By  Heaven,  you  are  much  too  good-look- 
ing to  be  made  a monk  of!  What  do  you  mean,  you 
villains,  by  attempting  to  kidnap  free  men  ? Is  it  not 
enough  for  you  to  lock  up  every  mad  girl  whom  you 
can  dupe,  but  you  must " 

“ His  master  is  here  present,  your  excellency,  who 
will  swear  to  the  purchase." 

“ Or  to  anything  else  for  the  glory  of  God.  Out  of 
the  way!  And  take  care,  you  tall  scoundrel,  that  I 
do  not  get  a handle  against  you.  You  have  been  one 
of  my  marked  men  for  many  a month.  Off ! " 

“His  master  demands  the  rights  of  the  law  as  a 
Roman  citizen,"  said  Peter,  pushing  forward  Arsenius. 

“ If  he  be  a Roman  citizen,  let  him  come  and  make 
liis  claim  at  the  tribune  to-morrow,  in  legal  form.  But 
I would  have  you  remember,  ancient  sir,  that  I shall 
require  you  to  prove  your  citizenship  before  we  proceed 
to  the  question  of  purchase." 

“ The  law  does  not  demand  that,"  quoth  Peter. 

“Knock  that  fellow  down,  apparitor!"  Whereat 
Peter  vanished,  and  an  ominous  growl  rose  from  the 
mob  of  monks. 

“What  am  I to  do,  most  noble  sir?"  said  Philam- 
mon. 

“Whatever  you  like,  till  the  third  hour  to-morrow 
— if  you  are  fool  enough  to  appear  at  the  tribune.  If 
you  will  take  my  advice,  you  will  knock  down  these 


In  an  instant  he  had  burst  through  the  mob  and  was  clinging  to  the  prefect’s 

chariot. 


HYPATIA. 


325 


fellows  right  and  left,  and  run  for  your  life.”  And 
Orestes  drove  on. 

Philammon  saw  that  it  was  his  only  chance,  and  did 
so;  and  in  another  minute  he  found  himself  rushing 
headlong  into  the  archway  of  Pelagia’s  house,  with  a 
dozen  monks  at  his  heels. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  the  outer  gates,  at  which  the 
Goths  had  just  entered,  were  still  open ; but  the  inner 
ones  which  led  into  the  court  beyond  were  fast.  He 
tried  them  but  in  vain.  There  was  an  open  door  in 
the  wall  on  his  right : he  rushed  through  it,  into  a long 
range  of  stables,  and  into  the  arms  of  Wulf  and  Smid, 
who  were  unsaddling  and  feeding,  like  true  warriors, 
their  own  horses. 

“ Souls  of  my  fathers ! ” shouted  Smid,  “ here’s  our 
young  monk  come  back!  What  brings  you  here,  head 
over  heels  in  this  way,  young  curly  pate  ? ” 

“Save  me  from  those  wretches!”  pointing  to  the 
monks  who  were  peeping  into  the  doorway. 

Wulf  seemed  to  understand  it  all  in  a moment,  for, 
snatching  up  a heavy  whip,  he  rushed  at  the  foe,  and 
with  a few  tremendous  strokes  cleared  the  doorway, 
and  shut  to  the  door. 

Philammon  was  going  to  explain  and  thank,  but 
Smid  stopped  his  mouth. 

“Never  mind,  young  one,  you  are  our  guest  now. 
Come  in,  and  you  shall  be  as  welcome  as  ever.  See 
what  comes  of  running  away  from  us  at  first.” 

“You  do  not  seem  to  have  benefited  much  by  leav- 
ing me  for  the  monks,”  said  W ulf.  “ Come  in  by  the 
inner  door.  Smid ! go  and  turn  those  monks  out  of 
the  gateway.” 

But  the  mob,  after  battering  the  door  for  a few 
minutes,  had  yielded  to  the  agonized  entreaties  of 
Peter,  who  assured  them  that  if  those  incarnate  fiends 


326 


HYPATIA. 


once  broke  out  upon  them,  they  would  not  leave  a 
Christian  alive  in  Alexandria.  So  it  was  agreed  to 
leave  a few  to  watch  for  Philammon’s  coming  out;  and 
the  rest,  balked  of  their  prey,  turned  the  tide  of  their 
wrath  against  the  prefect,  and  rejoined  the  mass  of 
their  party,  who  were  still  hanging  round  his  chariot, 
ready  for  mischief. 

In  vain  the  helpless  shepherd  of  the  people  attempted 
to  drive  on.  The  apparitors  were  frightened  and  hung 
back ; and  without  their  help  it  was  impossible  to  force 
the  horses  through  the  mass  of  tossing  arms  and 
beards  in  front.  The  matter  was  evidently  growing 
serious. 

“ The  bitterest  ruffians  in  all  Nitria,  your  Excel- 
lency,” whispered  one  of  the  guards,  with  a pale  face; 
“ and  two  hundred  of  them,  at  the  least.  The  very 
same  set,  I will  be  sworn,  who  nearly  murdered  Dios- 
curos.” 

“ If  you  will  not  allow  me  to  proceed,  my  holy  breth- 
ren,” said  Orestes,  trying  to  look  collected,  “ perhaps 
it  will  not  be  contrary  to  the  canons  of  the  Church  if 
I turn  back.  Leave  the  horses’  heads  alone.  Why,  in 
God’s  name,  what  do  you  want  ? ” 

“ Do  you  fancy  we  have  forgotten  Hieracas  ? ” cried  a 
voice  from  the  rear;  and  at  that  name,  yell  upon  yell 
arose,  till  the  mob,  gaining  courage  from  its  own  noise, 
burst  out  into  open  threats.  “ Revenge  for  the  blessed 
martyr,  Hieracas ! ” “ Revenge  for  the  wrongs  of  the 

Church!”  “Down  with  the  friend  of  Heathens,  Jews, 
and  Barbarians!”  “Down  with  the  favorite  of  Hy- 
patia ! ” “ Tyrant ! ” “ Butcher ! ” And  the  last  epithet 
so  smote  the  delicate  fancy  of  the  crowd,  that  a gen- 
eral cry  arose  of  “Kill  the  butcher!”  and  one  furious 
monk  attempted  to  clamber  into  the  chariot.  An 
apparitor  tore  him  down,  and  was  dragged  to  the 


HYPATIA. 


327 


ground  in  his  turn.  The  monks  closed  in.  The  guards, 
finding  the  enemy  number  ten  to  their  one  threw  down 
their  weapons  in  a panic,  and  vanished;  and  in  an- 
other minute  the  hopes  of  Hypatia  and  the  gods  would 
have  been  lost  forever,  and  Alexandria  robbed  of  the 
blessing  of  being  ruled  by  the  most  finished  gentleman 
south  of  the  Mediterranean,  had  it  not  been  for  unex- 
pected succor;  of  which  it  will  be  time  enough,  consid- 
ering who  and  what  is  in  danger,  to  speak  in  a future 
chapter. 


328 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A STRAY  GLEAM. 

The  last  blue  headland  of  Sardinia  was  fading*  fast 
on  the  northwest  horizon,  and  a steady  breeze  bore 
before  it  innumerable  ships,  the  wrecks  of  Heraclian’s 
armament,  plunging  and  tossing  impatiently  in  their 
desperate  homeward  race  toward  the  coast  of  Africa. 
Far  and  wide,  under  a sky  of  cloudless  blue,  the  white 
sails  glittered  on  the  glittering  sea,  as  gayly  now, 
above  their  loads  of  shame  and  disappointment,  terror, 
and  pain,  as  when,  but  one  short  month  before,  they 
bore  with  them  only  wild  hopes  and  gallant  daring. 
Who  can  calculate  the  sum  of  misery  in  that  hapless 
flight  ? . . . And  yet  it  was  but  one,  and  that  one  of 
the  least  known  and  most  trivial,  of  the  tragedies  of 
that  age  of  woe:  one  petty  death-spasm  among  the 
unnumbered  throes  which  were  shaking  to  dissolution 
the  Babylon  of  the  West.  Her  time  had  come.  Even 
as  Saint  John  beheld  her  in  his  vision,  by  agony  after 
agony,  she  was  rotting  to  her  well-earned  doom. 
Tyrannizing*  it  luxuriously  over  all  nations,  she  had 
sat  upon  the  mystic  beast — building  her  power  on  the 
brute  animal  appetites  of  her  dupes  and  slaves;  but 
she  had  duped  herself  even  more  than  them.  She  was 
finding  out  by  bitter  lessons  that  it  was  “to  the  beast,” 
and  not  to  her,  that  her  vassal  kings  of  the  earth  had 
been  giving  their  power  and  strength ; and  the  ferocity 
and  lust  which  she  had  pampered  so  cunningly  in 


HYPATIA. 


329 


them,  had  become  her  curse  and  her  destruction.  . . . 
Drunk  with  the  blood  of  the  saints,  blinded  by  her 
own  conceit  and  jealousy  to  the  fact  that  she  had  been 
crushing*  and  extirpating*  out  of  her  empire,  for  cen- 
turies past,  all  which  was  noble,  purifying*,  regenera- 
tive, divine,  she  sat  impotent  and  doting,  the  prey  of 
every  fresh  adventurer,  the  slave  of  her  own  slaves. 
. . . “ And  the  kings  of  the  earth  who  had  sinned  with 
her,  hated  the  harlot,  and  made  her  desolate  and  naked, 
and  devoured  her  flesh,  and  burned  her  with  fire.  For 
God  had  put  into  their  hearts  to  fulfil  His  will,  and  to 
agree,  and  to  give  their  kingdom  to  the  beasts,  until 
the  words  of  God  should  be  fulfilled.”  . . . Every- 
where sensuality,  division,  hatred,  treachery,  cruelty, 
uncertainty,  terror;  the  vials  of  God’s  wrath  poured 
out.  Where  was  to  be  the  end  of  it  all  ? asked  every 
man  of  his  neighbor,  generation  after  generation;  and 
received  for  answer  only,  “ It  is  better  to  die  than  to 
live.” 

And  yet,  in  one  ship  out  of  that  sad  fleet,  there  was 
peace,  peace  amid  shame  and  terror;  amid  the  groans 
of  the  wounded,  and  the  sighs  of  the  starving;  amid 
all  but  blank  despair.  The  great  triremes  and  quin- 
queremes  rushed  onward  past  the  lagging  transports, 
careless,  in  the  mad  race  for  safety,  that  they  were 
leaving  the  greater  number  of  their  comrades  defence- 
less in  the  rear  of  the  flight ; but  from  one  little  fishing- 
craft  alone  no  base  entreaties,  no  bitter  execrations 
greeted  the  passing  flash  and  roll  of  their  mighty  oars. 
One  after  another,  day  by  day,  they  came  rushing  up 
out  of  the  northern  offing,  each  like  a huge  hundred- 
footed dragon,  panting  and  quivering,  as  if  with  terror, 
at  every  loud  pulse  of  its  oars,  hurling  the  wild  water 
right  and  left  with  the  mighty  share  of  its  beak,  while 
from  the  bows  some  gorgon  or  chimaera,  elephant  or 


330 


HYPATIA. 


boar,  stared  out  with  brazen  eyes  toward  the  coast  of 
Africa,  as  if  it,  too,  like  the  human  beings  which  it 
carried,  was  dead  to  every  care  but  that  of  dastard 
flight.  Past  they  rushed,  one  after  another:  and  off 
the  poop  some  shouting  voice  chilled  all  hearts  for  a 
moment,  with  the  fearful  news  that  the  emperor’s 
Neapolitan  fleet  was  in  full  chase.  . . . And  the  sol- 
diers on  board  that  little  vessel  looked  silently  and 
steadfastly  into  the  silent,  steadfast  face  of  the  old 
prefect,  and  Victoria  saw  him  shudder,  and  turn  his 
eyes  away — and  stood  up  among  the  rough  fighting 
men,  like  a goddess,  and  cried  aloud  that  atlie  Lord 
would  protect  His  own;”  and  they  believed  her,  and 
were  still ; till  many  days  and  many  ships  were  passed, 
and  the  little  fishing  craft,  outstripped  even  by  the 
transports  and  merchantmen,  as  it  strained  and 
crawled  along  before  its  single  square-sail,  was  left 
alone  upon  the  sea. 

And  where  was  Raphael  Aben-Ezra  ? 

He  was  sitting,  with  Bran’s  head  between  his 
knees,  at  the  door  of  a temporary  awning  in  the  ves- 
sel’s stern,  which  shielded  the  wounded  men  from  sun 
and  spray;  and  as  he  sat  he  could  hear  from  within 
the  tent  the  gentle  voices  of  Victoria  and  her  brother, 
as  they  tended  the  sick  like  ministering  angels,  or 
read  to  them  words  of  divine  hope  and  comfort — in 
which  his  homeless  heart  felt  that  he  had  no  share.  . . . 

“As  I live,  I would  change  places  now  with  any  one 
of  those  poor  mangled  ruffians,  to  have  that  voice 
speaking  such  words  to  me  . . . and  to  believe  them.” 
. . . And  he  went  on  perusing  the  manuscript  which 
he  held  in  his  hand. 

****** 

“Well ! ” he  sighed  to  himself  after  awhile,  “ at  least 
it  is  the  most  complimentary,  not  to  say  hopeful,  view 


HYPATIA. 


331 


of  our  destinies  with  which  I have  met  since  I threw 
away  my  nurse’s  belief  that  the  seed  of  David  was 
fated  to  conquer  the  whole  earth,  and  set  up  a second 
Roman  Empire  at  Jerusalem,  only  worse  than  the 


And  what  may  this  so  hopeful  view  be  ? ” 


present  one,  in  that  the  devils  of  superstition  and 
bigotry  would  be  added  to  those  of  tyranny  and  ra- 
pine.” 

A hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder,  and  a voice  asked, 
“And  what  may  this  so  hopeful  view  be  ?” 


332 


HYPATIA. 


“Ah ! my  dear  general ! ” said  Raphael,  looking  up. 
“ I have  a poor  bill  of  fare  whereon  to  exercise  my  cu- 
linary powers  this  morning.  Had  it  not  been  for  that 
shark,  who  was  so  luckily  deluded  last  night,  I should 
have  been  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  stewing  my 
friend  the  fat  decurion’s  big  boots.” 

“ They  would  have  been  savory  enough,  I will  war- 
rant, after  they  had  passed  under  your  magical  hand.” 
“ It  is  a comfort,  certainly,  to  find  that  after  all  one 
did  learn  something  useful  in  Alexandria ! So  I will 
even  go  forward  at  once,  and  employ  my  artistic  skill.” 
“ Tell  me  first  what  it  was  about  which  I heard  you 
just  now  soliloquizing,  as  so  hopeful  a view  of  some 
matter  or  other.” 

“Honestly — if  you  will  neither  betray  me  to  your 
son  and  daughter,  nor  consider  me  as  having  in  any 
wise  committed  myself — it  was  Paul  of  Tarsus*  notion 
of  the  history  and  destinies  of  our  stiff-necked  nation. 
See  what  your  daughter  has  persuaded  me  into  read- 
ing! ” And  he  held  up  a manuscript  of  the  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews. 

“ It  is  execrable  Greek.  But  it  is  sound  philosophy, 
I cannot  deny.  He  knows  Plato  better  than  all  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen  in  Alexandria  put  together,  if 
my  opinion  on  the  point  be  worth  having.” 

“ I am  a plain  soldier,  and  no  judge  on  that  point, 
sir.  He  may  or  may  not  know  Plato ; but  I am  right 
sure  that  he  knows  God.” 

“Not  too  fast,”  said  Raphael,  with  a smile.  “You 
do  not  know,  perhaps,  that  I have  spent  the  last  ten 
years  of  my  life  among  men  who  professed  the  same 
knowledge  ? ” 

“Augustine,  too,  spent  the  best  ten  years  of  his  life 
among  such;  and  yet  he  is  now  combating  the  very 
errors  which  he  once  taught.” 


HYPATIA. 


333 


“ Having-  found,  he  fancies,  something  better  ? ” 

“ Having  found  it,  most  truly.  But  you  must  talk 
to  him  yourself,  and  argue  the  matter  over,  with  one 
who  can  argue.  To  me  such  questions  are  unknown 
land.” 

"Well.  . . . Perhaps  I may  be  tempted  to  do  even 
that.  At  least  a thoroughly  converted  philosopher — 
for  poor  dear  Synesius  is  half  heathen  still,  I often 
fancy,  and  hankers  after  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians 
— will  be  a curious  sight;  and  to  talk  with  so  famous 
and  so  learned  a man  would  always  be  a pleasure;  but 
to  argue  with  him,  or  any  other  human  being,  none 
whatsoever.” 

“ Why,  then  ? ” 

“ My  dear  sir,  I am  sick  of  syllogisms,  and  probabili- 
ties, and  pros  and  contras.  What  do  I care  if,  on 
weighing  both  sides,  the  nineteen  pounds’  weight  of 
questionable  arguments  against,  are  over-balanced  by 
the  twenty  pounds’  weight  of  equally  questionable 
arguments  for  ? Do  you  not  see  that  my  belief  of  the 
victorious  proposition  will  be  proportioned  to  the  one 
over-balancing  pound  only,  while  the  whole  other  nine- 
teen will  go  for  nothing  ? ” 

“ I really  do  not.” 

“ Happy  are  you,  then.  I do,  from  many  a sad  ex- 
perience. No,  my  worthy  sir.  I want  a faith  past 
arguments;  one  which,  whether  I can  prove  it  or  not 
to  the  satisfaction  of  the  lawyers,  I believe  to  my  own 
satisfaction,  and  act  on  it  as  undoubtingly  and  unrea- 
soningly  as  I do  upon  my  own  newly  rediscovered  per- 
sonal identity.  I don’t  want  to  possess  a faith.  I 
want  a faith  which  will  possess  me.  And  if  I ever  ar- 
rived at  such  a one,  believe  me,  it  would  be  by  some 
such  practical  demonstration  as  this  very  tent  has 
given  me.” 


334 


HYPATIA. 


“ This  tent?” 

“ Y es,  sir,  this  tent;  within  which  I have  seen  you 
and  your  children  lead  a life  of  deeds  as  new  to  me,  the 
Jew,  as  they  would  be  to  Hypatia,  the  Gentile.  I have 
watched  you  for  many  a day,  and  not  in  vain.  When 
I saw  you,  an  experienced  officer,  encumber  your  flight 
with  wounded  men,  I was  only  surprised.  But  since 
I have  seen  you  and  your  daughter,  and,  strangest  of 
all,  your  gay  young  Alcibiades  of  a son,  starving  your- 
selves to  feed  those  poor  ruffians — performing  for  them, 
day  and  night,  the  offices  of  menial  slaves — comfort- 
ing them,  as  no  man  ever  comforted  me — blaming  no 
one  but  yourselves,  caring  for  every  one  but  yourselves, 
sacrificing  nothing  but  yourselves;  and  all  this  with- 
out hope  of  fame  or  reward,  or  dream  of  appeasing  the 
wrath  of  any  god  or  goddess,  but  simply  because  you 
thought  it  right.  . . . When  I saw  that,  sir,  and  more 
which  I have  seen;  and  when,  reading  in  this  book 
here,  I found  most  unexpectedly  those  very  grand 
moral  rules  which  you  were  practising,  seeming  to 
spring  unconsciously,  as  natural  results,  from  the  great 
thoughts,  true  or  false,  which  had  preceded  them; 
then,  sir,  I began  to  suspect  that  the  creed  which  could 
produce  such  deeds  as  I have  watched  within  the  last 
few  days,  might  have  on  its  side  not  merely  a slight 
preponderance  of  probabilities,  but  what  we  Jews  used 
once  to  call,  when  we  believed  in  it — or  in  anything — 
the  mighty  power  of  God.” 

And  as  he  spoke,  he  looked  into  the  prefect’s  face 
with  the  look  of  a man  wrestling  in  some  deadly 
struggle ; so  intense  and  terrible  was  the  earnestness 
of  his  eye,  that  even  the  old  soldier  shrank  before  it. 

“And  therefore,”  he  went  on,  “ therefore,  sir,  beware 
of  your  own  actions,  and  of  your  children’s.  If,  by  any 
folly  or  baseness,  such  as  I have  seen  in  every  human 


HYPATIA. 


335 


being  whom  I ever  met  as  yet  upon  this  accursed 
stage  of  fools,  you  shall  crush  my  new-budding  hope 
that  there  is  something,  somewhere,  which  will  make 
me  what  I know  that  I ought  to  be,  and  can  be — if  you 
shall  crush  that,  I say,  by  any  misdoing  of  yours,  you 
had  better  have  been  the  murderer  of  my  first-born; 
with  such  a hate — a hate  which  Jews  alone  can  feel — 
will  I hate  you  and  yours.” 

“ God  help  us  and  strengthen  us!”  said  the  old  war- 
rior in  a tone  of  noble  humility. 

“And  now,”  said  Raphael,  glad  to  change  the  sub- 
ject after  this  unwonted  outburst,  “ we  must  once  more 
seriously  consider  whether  it  is  wise  to  hold  on  our 
present  course.  If  you  return  to  Carthage,  or  to 
Hippo 

“ I shall  be  beheaded.” 

“ Most  assuredly.  And  how  much  soever  you  may 
consider  such  an  event  a gain  to  yourself,  yet  for  the 
sake  of  your  son  and  your  daughter ” 

“ My  dear  sir,”  interrupted  the  prefect,  “ you  mean 
kindly.  But  do  not,  do  not  tempt  me.  By  the  Count's 
side  I have  fought  for  thirty  years,  and  by  his  side  I 
will  die,  as  I deserve.” 

“Victorius!  Victoria!”  cried  Raphael;  “help  me! 
Your  father,”  he  went  on,  as  they  came  out  from  the 
tent,  “is  still  decided  on  losing  his  own  head,  and 
throwing  away  ours,  by  going  to  Carthage.” 

“For  my  sake — for  our  sakes — father!”  cried  Vic- 
toria, clinging  to  him. 

“And  for  my  sake,  also,  most  excellent  sir,”  said 
Raphael,  smiling  quietly.  “I  have  no  wish  to  be  so 
uncourteous  as  to  urge  any  help  which  I may  have 
seemed  to  afford  you.  But  I hope  that  you  will  recol- 
lect that  I have  a life  to  lose,  and  that  it  is  hardly  fair 
of  you  to  imperil  it,  as  you  intend  to  do.  If  you  could 


336 


HYPATIA. 


help  to  save  Heraclian,  I should  he  dumb  at  once.  But 
now,  for  a mere  point  of  honor  to  destroy  fifty  good 
soldiers,  who  know  not  their  right  hands  from  their 
left — shall  I ask  their  opinion  ? " 

"Will  you  raise  a mutiny  against  me,  sir?"  asked 
the  old  man  sternly. 

" Why  not  mutiny  against  Philip  drunk,  in  behalf  of 
Philip  sober  ? But  really,  I will  obey  you  . . . only 
you  must  obey  us.  . . . What  is  Hesiod's  definition  of 
the  man  who  will  neither  counsel  himself  nor  be  coun- 
selled by  his  friends  ? . . . Have  you  no  trusty  ac- 
quaintances in  Cyrenaica,  for  instance  ? " 

The  prefect  was  silent. 

" Oh,  hear  us,  my  father!  Why  not  go  to  Euodius  ? 
He  is  your  old  comrade — a well-wisher,  too,  to  this  . . . 
this  expedition.  . . . And  recollect,  Augustine  must  be 
there  now.  He  was  about  to  sail  for  Berenice,  in  order 
to  consult  Synesius  and  the  Pentapolitan  bishops, 
when  we  left  Carthage." 

And  at  the  name  of  Augustine  the  old  man  paused. 

"Augustine  will  be  there ; true.  And  this  our  friend 
must  meet  him.  And  thus  at  least  I should  have  his 
advice.  If  he  thinks  it  my  duty  to  return  to  Carthage, 
I can  but  do  so,  after  all.  But  the  soldiers ! " 

"Excellent  sir!"  said  Raphael,  "Synesius  and  the 
Pentapolitan  landlords — who  can  hardly  call  their  lives 
their  own,  thanks  to  the  Moors — will  be  glad  enough 
to  feed  and  pay  them,  or  any  other  brave  fellows  with 
arms  in  their  hands,  at  this  moment.  And  my  friend, 
Yictorius,  here,  will  enjo3r,  I do  not  doubt,  a little  wild 
campaigning  against  marauding  blackamoors." 

The  old  man  bowed  silently.  The  battle  was  won. 

The  young  tribune,  who  had  been  watching  his 
father's  face  with  the  most  intense  anxiety,  caught  at 
the  gesture,  and  hurrying  forward,  announced  the 


HYPATIA. 


337 


change  of  plan  to  the  soldiery.  It  was  greeted  with 
a shout  of  joy,  and  in  another  five  minutes  the  sails 
were  about,  the  rudders  shifted,  and  the  ship  on  her 
way  toward  the  western  point  of  Sicily,  before  a steady 
northwest  breeze. 

“Ah!  ” cried  Victoria,  delighted.  “And  now  you  will 
see  Augustine!  You  must  promise  me  to  talk  to 
him ! ” 

“ This,  at  least,  I will  promise,  that  whatsoever  the 
great  sophist  shall  be  pleased  to  say,  shall  meet  with 
a patient  hearing  from  a brother  sophist.  Do  not  be 
angry  at  the  term.  Recollect  that  I am  somewhat 
tired,  like  my  ancestor  Solomon,  of  wisdom  and  wise 
men,  having  found  it  only  too  like  madness  and  folly. 
And  you  cannot  surely  expect  me  to  believe  in  man, 
while  I do  not  yet  believe  in  God  ? ” 

Victoria  sighed.  “ I will  not  believe  you.  Why 
always  pretend  to  be  worse  than  you  are  ? ” 

“ That  kind  souls  like  you  may  be  spared  the  pain  of 
finding  me  worse  than  I seem.  . . . There,  let  us  say 
no  more;  except  that  I heartily  wish  that  you  would 
hate  me ! ” 

“Shall  I try?” 

“ That  must  be  my  work,  I fear,  not  yours.  How- 
ever, I shall  give  you  good  cause  enough  before  long, 
doubt  it  not.” 

Victoria  sighed  again,  and  retired  into  the  tent  to 
nurse  the  sick. 

“And  now,  sir,”  said  the  prefect,  turning  to  Raphael 
and  his  son;  “do  not  mistake  me.  I may  have  been 
weak,  as  worn  out  and  hopeless  men  are  wont  to  be, 
but  do  not  think  of  me  as  one  who  has  yielded  to  ad- 
versity in  fear  for  his  own  safety.  As  God  hears  me, 
I desire  nothing  better  than  to  die;  and  I only  turn 
out  of  my  course  on  the  understanding  that  if  Augus- 


338 


HYPATIA. 


tine  so  advise,  my  children  hold  me  free  to  return  to 
Carthage  and  meet  my  fate.  All  I pray  for  is,  that 
my  life  may  be  spared  until  I can  place  my  dear  child 
in  the  safe  shelter  of  a nunnery.” 

“A  nunnery  ? ” 

“Yes,  indeed;  I have  intended  ever  since  her  birth 
to  dedicate  her  to  the  service  of  God.  And  in  such 
times  as  these,  what  better  lot  for  a defenceless  girl  ? ” 
“Pardon  me!”  said  Raphael;  “but  I am  too  dull  to 
comprehend  what  benefit  or  pleasure  your  Deity  will 
derive  from  the  celibacy  of  your  daughter.  . . . Ex- 
cept, indeed,  on  one  supposition,  which,  as  I have  some 
faint  remnants  of  reverence  and  decency  re-awakening 
in  me  just  now,  I must  leave  to  be  uttered  only  by  the 
pure  lips  of  sexless  priests.” 

“You  forget,  sir,  that  you  are  speaking  to  a Chris- 
tian.” 

“I  assure  you,  no!  I had  certainly  been  forgetting 
it  till  the  last  two  minutes,  in  your  very  pleasant  and 
rational  society.  There  is  no  danger  henceforth  of 
making  so  silly  a mistake.” 

“ Sir ! ” said  the  prefect,  reddening  at  the  undisguised 
contempt  of  Raphael’s  manner.  . . . “ When  you  know 
a little  more  of  St.  Paul’s  Epistles,  you  will  cease  to 
insult  the  opinions  and  feelings  of  those  who  obey 
them,  by  sacrificing  their  most  precious  treasures  to 
God.” 

“ Oh,  it  is  Paul  of  Tarsus,  then,  who  gives  you  the 
advice  ? I thank  you  for  informing  me  of  the  fact : 
for  it  will  save  me  the  trouble  of  any  future  study  of 
his  works.  Allow  me,  therefore,  to  return  by  your 
hands  this  manuscript  of  his  with  many  thanks  from 
me  to  that  daughter  of  yours,  by  whose  perpetual  im- 
prisonment you  intend  to  give  pleasure  to  your  Deity. 
Henceforth  the  less  communication  which  passes  be- 


HYPATIA. 


339 


tween  me  and  any  member  of  your  family,  the  better.” 
And  he  turned  away. 

“ But,  my  dear  sir! ” said  the  honest  soldier,  really 
chagrined,  “ you  must  not ! we  owe  you  too  much,  and 
love  you  too  well  to  part  thus  for  the  caprice  of  a mo- 
ment. If  any  word  of  mine  has  offended  you — forget 
it,  and  forgive  me,  I beseech  you ! ” and  he  caught 
both  Raphael’s  hands  in  his  own. 

“My  very  dear  sir,”  answered  the  Jew,  quietly;  “let 
me  ask  the  same  forgiveness  of  you;  and  believe  me, 
for  the  sake  of  past  pleasant  passages,  I shall  not  for- 
get my  promise  about  the  mortgage.  . . . But — here 
we  must  part.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I half  an  hour 
ago  was  fearfully  near  becoming  neither  more  nor  less 
than  a Christian.  I had  actually  deluded  myself  into 
the  fancy  that  the  Deity  of  the  Galileans  might  be, 
after  all,  the  God  of  our  old  Hebrew  forefathers — of 
Adam  and  Eve,  of  Abraham,  and  David,  and  of  the 
rest  who  believed  that  children  and  the  fruit  of  the 
womb  were  an  heritage  and  gift  which  cometh  of 
the  Lord — and  that  Paul  was  right — actually  right — 
in  his  theory  that  the  Church  was  the  development 
and  fulfilment  of  our  old  national  polity.  ...  I must 
thank  you.  for  opening  my  eyes  to  a mistake  which, 
had  I not  been  besotted  for  the  moment,  every  monk, 
and  nun  would  have  contradicted  by  the  mere  fact  of 
their  existence,  and  reserve  my  nascent  faith  for  some 
Deity  who  takes  no  delight  in  seeing  his  creatures 
stultify  the  primary  laws  of  their  being.  Farewell ! ” 

And  while  the  prefect  stood  petrified  with  astonish- 
ment, he  retired  to  the  further  extremity  of  the  deck, 
muttering  to  himself — 

“ Did  I not  know  all  along  that  this  gleam  was  too 
sudden  and  too  bright  to  last  ? Did  I not  know  that 
he?  too,  would  prove  himself  like  all  the  rest — an  ass  ? 


340 


HYPATIA. 


. . . Fool ! to  have  looked  for  common  sense  on  such 
an  earth  as  this!  . . . Back  to  chaos  again,  Raphael 
Aben-Ezra,  and  spin  ropes  of  sand  to  the  end  of  the 
farce!" 

And  mixing  with  the  soldiers,  he  exchanged  no  word 
with  the  prefect  and  his  children,  till  they  reached  the 
port  of  Berenice;  and  then  putting  the  necklace  into 
Victoria’s  hands,  vanished  among  the  crowds  upon  the 
quay,  no  one  knew  whither. 


HYPATIA. 


341 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  PREFECT  TESTED. 

When  we  lost  sight  of  Philammon,  his  destiny  had 
hurled  him  once  more  among  his  old  friends  the  Goths, 
in  search  of  two  important  elements  of  human  com- 
fort, freedom,  and  a sister.  The  former  he  found  at 
once,  in  a large  hall  where  sundry  Goths  were  loung- 
ing and  toping,  into  the  nearest  corner  of  which  he 
shrank,  and  stood,  his  late  terror  and  rage  forgotten 
altogether  in  the  one  new  and  absorbing  thought — his 
sister  might  he  in  that  house ! . . . and  yielding  to  so 
sweet  a dream,  he  began  fancying  to  himself  which  of 
all  those  gay  maidens  she  might  he  who  had  become 
in  one  moment  more  dear,  more  great  to  him,  than  all 
things  else  in  heaven  or  earth.  That  fair-haired, 
rounded  Italian  ? That  fierce,  luscious,  acquiline-faced 
Jewess  ? That  delicate,  swart,  sidelong-eyed,  Copt  ? 
No.  She  was  Athenian,  like  himself.  That  tall,  lazy 
Greek  girl,  then,  from  beneath  whose  sleepy  lids 
flashed,  once  an  hour,  sudden  lightnings,  revealing 
depths  of  thought  and  feeling  uncultivated,  perhaps 
even  unsuspected,  by  their  possessor  ? Her  ? Or  that, 
her  seeming  sister?  Or  the  next?  . . . Or — Was  it 
Pelagia  herself,  most  beautiful  and  most  sinful  of  them 
all  ? Fearful  thought ! He  blushed  scarlet  at  the  bare 
imagination : yet  why,  in  his  - secret  heart,  was  that 
the  most  pleasant  hypothesis  of  them  all  ? And  sud- 
denly flashed  across  him  that  observation  of  one  of 


342 


HYPATIA. 


the  girls  on  board  the  boat,  on  his  likeness  to  Pelagia ! 
Strange,  that  he  had  never  recollected  it  before.  It 
must  be  so ! And  yet  on  what  a slender  thread,  woven 
of  scattered  hints  and  surmises,  did  that  “must”  de- 
pend! He  would  be  sane!  he  would  wait;  he  would 
have  patience.  Patience,  with  a sister  yet  unfound, 
perhaps  perishing?  Impossible! 

Suddenly  the  train  of  his  thoughts  was  changed 
perforce — 

“ Come ! come  and  see ! There’s  a fight  in  the  streets,” 
called  one  of  the  damsels  down  the  stairs,  at  the  high- 
est pitch  of  her  voice. 

“ I shan’t  go,”  yawned  a huge  fellow,  who  was  lying 
on  his  back  on  a sofa. 

“ Oh,  come  up,  my  hero,”  said  one  of  the  girls. 
“ Such  a charming  riot,  and  the  prefect  himself  in  the 
middle  of  it!  We  have  not  had  such  a one  in  the 
street  this  month.” 

“ The  princes  won’t  let  me  knock  any  of  these  donkey- 
riders  on  the  head,  and  seeing  other  people  do  it  only 
makes  me  envious.  Give  me  the  wine  jug — curse  the 
girl ! she  has  run  up-stairs ! ” 

The  shouting  and  trampling  came  nearer;  and  in 
another  minute  Wulf  came  rapidly  down-stairs, 
through  the  hall  into  the  harem-court,  and  into  the 
presence  of  the  Amal. 

“Prince — here  is  a chance  for  us.  These  rascally 
Greeks  are  murdering  their  prefect  under  our  very 
windows.” 

“ The  lying  cur ! Serve  him  right  for  cheating  us. 
He  has  plenty  of  guards.  Why  can’t  the  fool  take 
care  of  himself  ? ” 

“ They  have  all  run  away,  and  I saw  some  of  them 
hiding  among  the  mob.  As  I live,  the  man  will  be 
killed  in  five  minutes  more.” 


HYPATIA. 


343 


“Why  not?” 

“ Why  should  he,  when  we  can  save  him  and  win  his 
favor  forever  ? The  men’s  fingers  are  itching  for  a 
fight;  it’s  a bad  plan  not  to  give  hounds  blood  now 
and  then,  or  they  lose  the  knack  of  hunting.” 

“ Well,  it  wouldn’t  take  five  minutes.” 

“And  heroes  should  show  that  they  can  forgive 
when  an  enemy  is  in  distress.” 

“Very  true!  Like  an  Amal  too!”  And  the  Amal 
sprang  up  and  shouted  to  his  men  to  follow  him. 

“Good-by,  my  pretty  one.  Why,  Wulf,”  cried  he, 
as  he  burst  out  into  the  court,  “ here’s  our  monk  again ! 
By  Odin,  you’re  welcome,  my  handsome  boy!  come 
along  and  fight  too,  young  fellow;  what  were  those 
arms  given  you  for  ? ” 

“He  is  my  man,”  said  Wulf,  laying  his  hand  on 
Philammon’s  shoulder,  “and  blood  he  shall  taste.” 
And  out  the  three  hurried,  Philammon,  in  his  present 
reckless  mood,  ready  for  anything. 

“Bring  your  whips.  Never  mind  swords.  Those 
rascals  are  not  worth  it,”  shouted  the  Amal,  as  he 
hurried  down  the  passage  brandishing  his  heavy  thong, 
some  ten  feet  in  length,  threw  the  gate  open,  and  the 
next  moment  recoiled  from  a dense  crush  of  people 
who  surged  in — and  surged  out  again  as  rapidly,  as 
the  Goth,  with  the  combined  force  of  his  weight  and 
arm,  hewed  his  way  straight  through  them,  felling  a 
wretch  at  every  blow,  and  followed  up  by  his  terrible 
companions. 

They  were  but  just  in  time.  The  four  white  blood- 
horses  were  plunging  and  rolling  over  each  other,  and 
Orestes  reeling  in  his  chariot,  with  a stream  of  blood 
running  down  his  face  and  the  hands  of  twenty  wild 
monks  clutching  at  him.  “ Monks  again ! ” thought 
Philammon;  and  as  he  saw  among  them  more  than 


344 


HYPATIA. 


one  hateful  face,  which  he  recollected  in  CyriPs  court- 
yard on  that  fatal  night,  a flush  of  fierce  revenge  ran 
through  him. 

“ Mercy ! ” shrieked  the  miserable  prefect,  “ I am  a 
Christian ! I swear  that  I am  a Christian ! the  Bishop 
Atticus  baptized  me  at  Constantinople!” 

“Down  with  the  butcher!  down  with  the  heathen 
tyrant,  who  refuses  the  abjuration  on  the  Gospels 
rather  than  be  reconciled  to  the  patriarch ! Tear  him 
out  of  the  chariot!”  yelled  the  monks. 

“ The  craven  hound ! ” said  the  Amal,  stopping  short, 
“I  won’t  help  him!”  but  in  an  instant  Wulf  rushed 
forward,  and  struck  right  and  left;  the  monks  recoiled, 
and  Philammon,  burning  to  prevent  so  shameful  a 
scandal  to  the  faith  to  which  he  still  clung  convul- 
sively, sprung  into  the  chariot  and  caught  Orestes  in 
his  arms. 

“You  are  safe,  my  lord;  don’t  struggle,”  whispered 
he,  while  the  monks  flew  on  him.  A stone  or  two 
struck  him,  but  they  only  quickened  his  determination, 
and  in  another  moment  the  whistling  of  the  whips 
round  his  head,  and  the  yell  and  backward  rush  of  the 
monks,  told  him  that  he  was  safe.  He  carried  his 
burden  safely  within  the  doorway  of  Pelagia’s  house, 
into  the  crowd  of  peeping  and  shrinking  damsels, 
where  twenty  pairs  of  the  prettiest  hands  in  Alexan- 
dria seized  on  Orestes,  and  drew  him  into  the  court. 

“ Like  a second  Hylas,  carried  off  by  the  nymphs ! ” 
simpered  he,  as  he  vanished  into  the  harem,  to  reap- 
pear in  five  minutes,  his  head  bound  up  with  silk  hand- 
kerchiefs, and  with  as  much  of  his  usual  impudence  as 
he  could  muster. 

“Your  excellency — heroes  all — I am  your  devoted 
slave.  I owe  you  life  itself;  and  more,  the  valor  of 
your  succor  is  only  surpassed  by  the  deliciousness  of 


HYPATIA. 


345 


your  care.  I would  gladly  undergo  a second  wound 
to  enjoy  a second  time  the  services  of  such  hands,  and 
to  see  such  feet  busying  themselves  on  my  behalf.” 

“You  wouldn’t  have  said  that  five  minutes  ago,” 
quoth  the  Amal,  looking  at  him  very  much  as  a bear 
might  at  a monkey. 

“Never  mind  the  hands  and  feet,  old  fellow,  they 
are  none  of  yours ! ” bluntly  observed  a voice  from 
behind,  probably  Smid’s,  and  a laugh  ensued. 

“ My  saviors,  my  brothers ! ” said  Orestes,  politely 
ignoring  the  laughter.  “ How  can  I repay  you  ? Is 
there  anything  in  which  my  office  here  enables  me — I 
will  not  say  to  reward,  for  that  would  be  a term  be- 
neath your  dignity  as  free  barbarians — but  to  gratify 
you  ? ” 

“ Give  us  three  days’  pillage  of  the  quarter ! ” shouted 
some  one. 

“Ah,  true  valor  is  apt  to  underrate  obstacles;  you 
forget  your  small  numbers.” 

“ I say,”  quoth  the  Amal;  “ I say,  take  care,  prefect. 
If  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  we  forty  couldn’t  cut  all 
the  throats  in  Alexandria  in  three  days,  and  yours 
into  the  bargain,  and  keep  your  soldiers  at  bay  all  the 
time 

“Half  of  them  would  join  us!”  cried  some  one. 
“They  are  half  our  own  flesh  and  blood  after  all!” 

“Pardon  me,  my  friends,  I do  not  doubt  it  a mo- 
ment. I know  enough  of  the  world  never  to  have 
found  a sheepdog  yet  who  would  not,  on  occasion,  help 
to  make  away  with  a little  of  the  mutton  which  he 
guarded.  Eh,  my  venerable  sir?”  turning  to  Wulf, 
with  a knowing  bow. 

Wulf  chuckled  grimly,  and  said  something  to  the 
Amal  in  German  about  being  civil  to  guests. 

“You  will  pardon  me,  my  heroic  friends,”  said 


346 


HYPATIA. 


Orestes,  “ but,  with  your  kind  permission,  I will  ob- 
serve that  I am  somewhat  faint  and  disturbed  by  late 
occurrences.  To  trespass  on  your  hospitality  further 
would  be  an  impertinence.  If,  therefore,  I might  send 
a slave  to  find  some  of  my  apparitors ” 

“No,  by  all  the  gods!”  roared  the  Amal;  “you're 
my  guest  now — my  lady's  at  least.  And  no  one  ever 
went  out  of  my  house  sober  yet,  if  I could  help  it.  Set 
the  cooks  to  work,  my  men!  The  prefect  shall  feast 
with  us  like  an  emperor,  and  we'll  send  him  home  to- 
night as  drunk  as  he  can  wish.  Come  along,  your  ex- 
cellency; we're  rough  fellows,  we  Goths;  but  by  the 
Valkyrs,  no  one  can  say  that  we  negTect  our  guests! '' 

“ It  is  a sweet  compulsion,”  said  Orestes,  as  he 
went  in. 

“ Stop,  by-tlie-by ! Didn't  one  of  you  men  catch  a 
monk  ? ” 

“ Here  he  is,  prince,  with  his  elbows  safe  behind 
him.”  And  a tall,  haggard,  half  naked  monk  was 
dragged  forward. 

“Capital!  bring  him  in.  His  excellency  shall  judge 
him  while  dinner's  cooking,  and  Smid  shall  have  the 
hanging  of  him.  He  hurt  nobody  in  the  scuffle;  he 
was  thinking  of  his  dinner.” 

“Some  rascal  bit  a piece  out  of  my  leg,  and  I tum- 
bled down,”  grumbled  Smid. 

“Well,  pay  out  this  fellow  for  it,  then.  Bring  a 
chair,  slaves!  Here,  your  highness,  sit  there  and 
judge.” 

“Two  chairs!”  said  some  one;  “the  Amal  shan't 
stand  before  the  emperor  himself.” 

“ By  all  means,  my  dear  friends.  The  Amal  and  I 
will  act  as  the  two  Coesars,  with  divided  empire ; I pre- 
sume we  shall  have  little  difference  of  opinion  as  to  the 
hanging  of  this  worthy.” 


COLLEGE 


boston  mass. 

CHESTNUT  H»LU 


HYPATIA.  349 

“ Hanging’s  too  quick  for  him.” 

“Just  what  I was  about  to  remark — there  are  cer- 
tain judicial  formalities  considered  generally  to  be 
conducive  to  the  stability,  if  not  necessary  to  the  exist- 
ence, of  the  Roman  empire ” 

“ I say,  don’t  talk  so  much,”  shouted  a Goth.  “ If 
you  want  to  have  the  hanging  of  him  yourself,  do. 
We  thought  we  would  save  you  trouble.” 

“Ah,  my  excellent  friend,  would  you  rob  me  of  the 
delicate  pleasure  of  revenge  ? I intend  to  spend  at 
least  four  hours  to-morrow  in  killing  this  pious  mar- 
tyr. He  will  have  a good  time  to  think,  between  the 
beginning  and  the  end  of  the  rack.” 

“ Do  you  hear  that,  master  monk  ? ” said  Smid, 
chucking  him  under  the  chin,  while  the  rest  of  the 
party  seemed  to  think  the  whole  business  an  excellent 
joke,  and  divided  their  ridicule  openly  enough  between 
the  prefect  and  his  victim. 

“The  man  of  blood  has  said  it.  I am  a martyr,” 
answered  the  monk,  in  a dogged  voice. 

“You  will  take  a good  deal  of  time  in  becoming  one.” 
“ Death  may  be  long,  but  glory  is  everlasting.” 
“True.  I forgot  that,  and  will  save  you  the  said 
glory,  if  I can  help  it,  for  a year  or  two.  Who  was  it 
struck  me  with  the  stone  ? ” 

No  answer. 

“ Tell  me,  and  the  moment  he  is  in  my  lictor’s  hand 
I pardon  you  freely.” 

The  monk  laughed.  “ Pardon  ? Pardon  me  eternal 
bliss,  and  the  things  unspeakable,  which  God  has  pre- 
pared for  those  who  love  Him  ? Tyrant  and  butcher! 
I struck  thee,  thou  second  Dioclesian — I hurled  the 
stone — I,  Ammonius.  Would  to  heaven  that  it  had 
smitten  thee  through,  thou  Sisera,  like  the  nail  of  Jael 
the  Kenite ! ” 


350 


HYPATIA. 


“ Thanks,  my  friend.  Heroes,  you  have  a cellar  for 
monks  as  well  as  for  wine  ? I will  trouble  you  with 
this  hero’s  psalm-singing’  to-night,  and  send  my  ap- 
paritors for  him  in  the  morning.” 

“ If  he  begins  howling  when  we  are  in  bed,  your  men 
won’t  find  much  of  him  left  in  the  morning,”  said  the 
Amal.  “But  here  come  the  slaves,  announcing  din- 
ner.” 

“ Stay,”  said  Orestes;  “ there  is  one  more  with  whom 
I have  an  account  to  settle — that  young  philosopher 
there.” 

“ Oh,  he  is  coming  in,  too.  He  never  was  drunk  in 
his  life.  I’ll  warrant,  poor  fellow,  and  it’s  high  time  for 
him  to  begin.”  And  the  Ainal  laid  a good-natured 
bear’s  paw  on  Philammon’s  shoulder,  who  hung  back 
in  perplexit}",  and  cast  a piteous  look  toward  Wulf. 

Wulf  answered  it  by  a shake  of  the  head,  which 
gave  Pliilammon  courage  to  stammer  out  a courteous 
refusal.  The  Amal  swore  an  oath  at  him  which  made 
the  cloister  ring  again,  and  with  a quiet  shove  of  his 
heavy  hand,  sent  him  staggering  half  across  the  court: 
but  Wulf  interposed. 

“ The  boy  is  mine,  prince.  He  is  no  drunkard,  and  I 
will  not  let  him  become  one.  W ould  to  heaven,”  added 
he,  under  his  breath,  “that  I could  say  the  same  to 
some  others.  Send  us  out  our  supper  here,  when  you 
are  done.  Half  a sheep  or  so  will  do  between  us;  and 
enough  of  the  strongest  to  wash  it  down  with.  Smid 
knows  my  quantity.” 

“ Why  in  heaven’s  name  are  you  not  coming  in  ? ” 

“ That  mob  will  be  trying  to  burst  the  gates  again 
before  two  hours  are  out;  and  as  some  one  must  stand 
sentry,  it  may  as  well  be  a man  who  will  not  have  his 
ears  stopped  up  by  wine  and  women’s  kisses.  The  boy 
will  stay  with  me.” 


HYPATIA. 


351 


So  the  party  went  in,  leaving  Wulf  and  Philammon 
alone  in  the  outer  hall. 

There  the  two  sat  for  some  half-hour,  casting  stealthy 
glances  at  each  other,  and  wondering,  perhaps,  each  of 
them  vainly  enough,  what  was  going  on  in  the  oppo- 
site brain.  Philammon,  though  his  heart  was  full  of 
his  sister,  could  not  help  noticing  the  air  of  deep  sad- 
ness which  hung  about  the  scarred  and  weather-beaten 
features  of  the  old  warrior.  The  grimness  which  he 
had  remarked  on  their  first  meeting  seemed  to  be  now 
changed  into  a settled  melancholy.  The  furrows  round 
his  mouth  and  eyes  had  become  deeper  and  sharper. 
Some  perpetual  indignation  seemed  smouldering  in  the 
knitted  brow  and  protruding  upper  lip.  He  sat  there 
silent  and  motionless  for  some  half-hour,  his  chin  rest- 
ing on  his  hands,  and  they  again  upon  the  butt  of  his 
axe,  apparently  in  deep  thought,  and  listening  with  a 
silent  sneer  at  the  clinking  of  glasses  and  dishes  within. 

Philammon  felt  too  much  respect,  both  for  his  age 
and  his  stately  sadness,  to  break  the  silence.  At  last 
some  louder  burst  of  merriment  than  usual  aroused 
him. 

“ What  do  you  call  that  ? ” said  he,  speaking  in 
Greek. 

“ Folly  and  vanity.” 

“And  what  does  she  there — the  Alruna — the  prophet- 
woman,  call  it  ? ” 

“ Whom  do  you  mean  ? ” 

“Why  the  Greek  woman  whom  we  went  to  hear 
talk  this  morning.” 

“ Folly  and  vanity.” 

“Why  can’t  she  cure  that  Roman  hairdresser  there 
of  it,  then  ? ” 

Philammon  was  silent — “Why  not,  indeed!” 

“ Do  you  think  she  could  cure  any  one  of  it  ? ” 


352 


HYPATIA. 


“ Of  what  ? ” 

“ Of  getting  drunk,  and  wasting  their  strength  and 
their  fame,  and  their  hard-won  treasures  upon  eating 
and  drinking,  and  fine  clothes,  and  bad  women/’ 

“ She  is  most  pure  herself,  and  she  preaches  purity 
to  all  who  hear  her/’ 


Wulf. 


“ Curse  preaching.  I have  preached  for  these  four 
months.” 

“ Perhaps  she  may  have  some  more  winning  argu- 
ments— perhaps ” 

“ I know.  Such  a beautiful  bit  of  flesh  and  blood  as 
she  is  might  get  a hearing,  when  a grizzled  old  head- 


HYPATIA. 


353 


splitter  like  me  was  called  a dotard.  Eh  ? Well.  It’s 
natural/’ 

A long-  silence. 

“ She  is  a grand  woman.  I never  saw  such  a one, 
and  I have  seen  many.  There  was  a prophetess  once, 
lived  in  an  island  in  the  Weserstream — and  when  a 
man  saw  her,  even  before  she  spoke  a word,  one  longed 
to  crawl  to  her  feet  on  all  fours,  and  say.  ‘ There 
tread  on  me;  I am  not  fit  for  you  to  wipe  your  feet 
upon/  And  many  a warrior  did  it.  . . . Perhaps  I 
may  have  done  it  myself  before  now.  . . . And  this 
one  is  strangely  like  her.  She  would  make  a prince’s 
wife,  now.” 

Philammon  started.  What  new  feeling  was  it, 
which  made  him  so  indignant  at  the  notion  ? 

‘Beauty?  What’s  body  without  soul?  WhaPs 
beauty  without  wisdom  ? What’s  beauty  without, 
chastity?  Beast!  fool!  wallowing  in  the  mire  which 
every  hog  has  fouled ! ” 

“ Like  a jewel  of  gold  in  a swine’s  snout,  so  is  a fair 
woman  who  is  without  discretion.” 

“ Who  said  that  ? ” 

“ Solomon,  the  king  of  Israel.” 

‘'I  never  heard  of  him.  But  he  was  a right  Saga- 
man,  whoever  said  it.  And  she  is  a pure  maiden,  that 
other  one  ? ” 

“ Spotless  as  the” — blessed  Virgin,  Philammon  was 
going  to  say — but  checked  himself.  There  were  sad 
recollections  about  the  words. 

Wulf  sat  silent  for  a few  minutes,  while  Philam- 
mon’s  thoughts  reverted  at  once  to  the  new  purpose*: 
for  which  alone  life  seemed  worth  having.  . . . To> 
find  his  sister.  That  one  thought  had  in  a few  hours 
changed  and  matured  the  boy  into  the  man.  Hitherto 
he  had  been  only  the  leaf  before  the  wind,  the  puppet 
23 


■354 


HYPATIA. 


of  every  new  impression;  but  now  circumstance,  which 
had  been  leading  him  along  in  such  soft  fetters  for 
many  a month,  was  become  his  deadly  foe;  and  all  his 
energy  and  cunning,  all  his  little  knowledge  of  man 
and  of  society,  rose  up  sturdily  and  shrewdly  to  fight 
in  this  new  cause.  Wulf  was  now  no  longer  a phe- 
nomenon to  be  wondered  at,  but  an  instrument  to  be 
used.  The  broken  hints  which  he  had  just  given  of 
discontent  with  Pelagia’s  presence  inspired  the  boy 
with  sudden  hope,  and  cautiously  he  began  to  hint  at 
the  existence  of  persons  who  would  be  glad  to  remove 
her.  Wulf  caught  at  the  notion,  and  replied  to  it 
with  searching  questions,  till  Philarnmon,  finding  plain 
speaking  the  better  part  of  cunning,  told  him  openly 
the  whole  events  of  the  morning,  and  the  mystery 
which  Arsenius  had  half  revealed;  and  then  shuddered 
with  mingled  joy  and  horror  as  Wulf,  after  ruminating 
over  the  matter  for  a weary  five  minutes,  made  an- 
swer— 

"And  what  if  Pelagia  herself  was  your  sister  ? ” 
Philarnmon  was  bursting  forth  in  some  passionate 
answer,  when  the  old  man  stopped  him,  and  went  on 
slowly,  looking  him  through  and  through — 

" Because,  when  a penniless  young  monk  claims  kin 
witli  a woman  who  is  drinking  out  of  the  wine-cups  of 
the  Otesars,  and  filling  a place  for  a share  of  which 
king's  daughters  have  been  thankful — and  will  be 
again  before  long — why  then,  though  an  old  man  may 
be  too  good-natured  to  call  it  all  a lie  at  first  sight, 
he  can’t  help  supposing  that  the  young  monk  has  an 
eye  to  his  own  personal  profit,  eh  ? ” 

" My  profit  ? ” cried  poor  Philarnmon,  starting  up. 
"Good  God!  what  object  on  earth  can  I have  but  to 
rescue  her  from  this  infamy  to  purity  and  holiness  ? ” 
He  had  touched  the  wrong  chord. 


HYPATIA. 


355 


“ Infamy  ? you  cursed  Egyptian  slave !”  cried  the 
prince,  starting  up,  in  his  turn,  red  with  passion,  and 
clutching  at  the  whip  which  hung  over  his  head.  “ In- 
famy ? As  if  she,  and  you  too,  ought  not  to  consider 
yourselves  blest  in  her  being  allowed  to  wash  the  feet 
of  an  Amal ! ” 

“ Oh,  forgive  me ! ” said  Philammon,  terrified  at  the 
fruits  of  his  own  clumsiness.  “ But  you  forget — you 
forget,  she  is  not  married  to  him!” 

“Married  to  him?  A freedwoman  ? No,  thank 
Freya!  he  has  not  fallen  as  low  as  that,  at  least;  and 
never  shall,  if  I kill  the  witch  with  my  own  hands.  A 
freedwoman ! ” 

Poor  Philammon  ! And  he  had  been  told  but  that 
morning  that  he  was  a slave.  He  hid  his  face  in  his 
hands,  and  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears. 

“ Come,  come,”  said  the  testy  warrior,  softened  at 
once.  “Women’s  tears  don’t  matter;  but  somehow  I 
never  could  bear  to  make  a man  cry.  When  you  are 
cool,  and  have  learnt  common  courtesy,  we’ll  talk  more 
about  this.  So!  Hush;  enough  is  enough.  Here 
comes  the  supper,  and  I am  as  hungry  as  Loke.” 

And  he  commenced  devouring  like  his  namesake, 
“the  gray  beast  of  the  wood,”  and  forcing,  in  his 
rough,  hospitable  way,  Philammon  to  devour  also, 
much  against  his  will  and  stomach. 

“There,  I feel  happier  now,”  quoth  Wulf,  at  last. 
“There  is  nothing  to  be  done  in  this  accursed  place 
but  to  eat.  I get  no  fighting,  no  hunting.  I hate 
women  as  they  hate  me.  I don’t  know  anything,  in- 
deed, that  I don’t  hate,  except  eating  and  singing. 
And  now,  what  with  those  girls’  vile  unmanly  harps 
and  flutes,  no  one  cares  to  listen  to  a true  rattling  war- 
song.  There  they  are  at  it  now,  with  their  catter- 
wauling,  squealing  all  together  like  a set  of  starlings 


356 


HYPATIA. 


on  a foggy  morning!  We’ll  have  a song,  too,  to  drown 
the  noise.”  And  he  burst  out  with  a wild,  rich  melody, 
acting,  in  uncouth  gestures  and  a suppressed  tone  of 
voice,  the  scene  which  the  words  described — 

“ An  elk  looked  out  of  the  pine  forest; 

He  snuffed  up  east,  he  snuffed  down  west, 

Stealthy  and  still. 

“ His  mane  and  his  horns  were  heavy  with  snow ; 

I laid  my  arrow  across  my  bow, 

Stealthy  and  still.” 

And  then,  quickening  his  voice,  as  his  whole  face  blazed 
up  into  fierce  excitement — 

“ The  bow  it  rattled,  the  arrow  flew, 

It  smote  his  bladebones  through  and  through, 
Hurrah! 

“ I sprang  at  his  throat  like  a wolf  of  the  wood, 

And  I warmed  my  hands  in  the  smoking  blood, 
Hurrah!” 

And,  with  a shout  that  echoed  and  rang  from  wall  to 
wall,  and  pealed  away  above  the  roofs,  he  leapt  to  his 
feet  with  a gesture  and  look  of  savage  frenzy  which 
made  Philammon  recoil.  But  the  passion  was  gone 
in  an  instant,  and  Wulf  sat  down  again,  chuckling  to 
himself — 

"There — that  is  something  like  a warrior’s  song. 
That  makes  the  old  blood  spin  along  again ! But  this 
debauching  furnace  of  a climate ! no  man  can  keep  his 
muscle,  or  his  courage,  or  his  money,  or  anything  else 
in  it.  May  the  gods  curse  the  day  when  first  I saw  it ! ” 
Philammon  said  nothing,  but  sat  utterly  aghast  at 
an  outbreak  so  unlike  Wulf’s  usual  caustic  reserve,  and 
stately  self-restraint,  and  shuddering  at  the  thought 
that  it  might  be  an  instance  of  that  demoniac  posses- 
sion to  which  these  barbarians  were  supposed  by 


HYPATIA. 


357 


Christians  and  by  Heo-Platonists  to  be  peculiarly  sub- 
ject. But  the  horror  was  not  yet  at  its  height;  for  in 
another  minute  the  doors  of  the  women's  court  flew 
open,  and,  attracted  by  Wulf's  shout,  out  poured  the 
whole  Bacchanalian  crew,  with  Orestes,  crowned  with 
flowers,  and  led  by  the  Amal  and  Pelagia,  reeling  in 
the  midst,  wine-cup  in  hand. 

“ There  is  my  philosopher,  my  preserver,  my  patron 
saint ! " hiccoughed  he.  “ Bring  him  to  my  arms,  that 
I may  encircle  his  lovely  neck  with  pearls  of  India,  and 
barbaric  gold." 

“ For  God's  sake,  let  me  escape ! " whispered  he  to 
Wulf,  as  the  rout  rushed  upon  him.  Wulf  opened  the 
door  in  an  instant  and  he  dashed  through  it.  As  he 
went,  the  old  man  held  out  his  hand — 

“Come  and  see  me  again,  boy.  Me  only.  The  old 
warrior  will  not  hurt  you ! " 

There  was  a kindly  tone  in  the  voice,  a kindly  light 
in  the  eye,  which  made  Philammon  promise  to  obey. 
He  glanced  one  look  back  though  the  gateway  as  he 
fled,  and  just  saw  a wild  whirl  of  Goths  and  girls, 
spinning  madly  round  the  court  in  the  world-old  Teu- 
tonic waltz;  while,  high  above  their  heads,  in  the  up- 
lifted arms  of  the  mighty  Amal,  was  tossing  the  beau- 
tiful figure  of  Pelagia,  tearing  the  garland  from  her 
floating  hair  to  pelt  the  dancers  with  its  roses.  And 
that  might  be  his  sister!  He  hid  his  face  and  fled,  and 
the  gate  shut  out  the  revellers  from  his  eyes;  and  it 
is  high  time  that  it  should  shut  them  out  from  ours 
also. 

Some  four  hours  more  had  passed.  The  revellers 
were  sleeping  off  their  wine,  and  the  moon  shining 
bright  and  cold  across  the  court,  when  Wulf  came  out, 
carrying  a heavy  jar  of  wine,  followed  by  Smid,  a 
goblet  in  each  hand. 


358 


HYPATIA. 


“ Here,  comrade,  out  into  the  middle  to  catch  a breath 
of  night  air.  Are  all  the  fools  asleep  ? ” 

“ Every  mother’s  son  of  them.  Ah!  this  is  refresh- 
ing after  that  hot  room.  What  a pity  it  is  that  all 
men  are  not  horn  with  heads  like  ours ! ” 

"Very  sad  indeed,”  said  Wulf,  filling  his  goblet. 
“What  a quantity  of  pleasure  they  lose  in  this  life! 
There  they  are,  snoring  like  hogs.  Now,  you  and  I are 
good  to  finish  that  jar,  at  least.” 

“And  another  after  it,  if  our  talk  is  not  over  by  that 
time.” 

“ WTliy,  are  you  going  to  hold  a council  of  war  ? ” 
“That  is  as  you  take  it.  Now,  look  here,  Smid. 
Whomsoever  I cannot  trust,  I suppose  I may  trust 
you,  eh  ? ” 

“Well!”  quoth  Smid,  surlily,  putting  down  his  gob- 
let, “that  is  a strange  question  to  ask  of  a man  who 
has  marched  and  hungered,  and  plundered,  and  con- 
quered, and  been  well  beaten  by  your  side  for  five  and 
twenty  years,  through  all  lands  between  the  Wesel 
and  Alexandria.” 

“ I am  growing  old,  I suppose,  and  so  I suspect  every 
one.  But  hearken  to  me,  for  between  wine  and  ill- 
temper  out  it  must  come.  You  saw  that  Alruna- 
woman  ? ” 

“ Of  course.” 

“ Well?” 

“ Well  ? ” 

“Why,  did  not  you  think  she  would  make  a wife  for 
any  man  ? ” 

“ Well  ? ” 

“And  why  not  for  our  Amal  ? ” 

“ That’s  his  concern  as  well  as  hers,  and  hers  as  well 
as  ours.” 

“She?  Ought  she  not  to  think  herself  only  too 


HYPATIA. 


359 


much  honored  by  marrying-  a son  of  Odin  ? Is  she 
going  to  be  more  dainty  than  Placidia  ? ” 

“ What  was  good  enough  for  an  emperor’s  daughter 
must  be  good  enough  for  her.” 

“ Good  enough  ? And  Adolf  only  a Balt,  while  Amal- 
ric  is  a full-blooded  Amal — Odin’s  son  by  both  sides  ?” 
“ I don’t  know  whether  she  would  understand  that.” 
“ Then  we  would  make  her.  Why  not  carry  her  off 
and  marry  her  to  the  Amal  whether  she  choose  or  not  ? 
She  would  be  well  content  enough  with  him  in  a week, 
I will  warrant.” 

“ But  there  is  Pelagia  in  the  way.” 

“ Put  her  out  of  the  way,  then.” 

“ Impossible.” 

“ It  was  this  morning : a week  hence  it  may  not  be. 
I heard  a promise  made  to-night  which  will  do  it,  if 
there  be  the  spirit  of  a Goth  left  in  the  poor  besotted 
lad  whom  we  know  of.” 

“Oh,  he  is  all  right  at  heart;  never  fear  him.  But 
what  was  the  promise  ? ” 

“ I will  not  tell  till  it  is  claimed.  I will  not  be  the 
man  to  shame  my  own  nation  and  the  blood  of  the 
gods.  But  if  that  drunken  prefect  recollects  it — why 
let  him  recollect  it.  And  what  is  more,  the  monk-boy 

who  was  here  to-night ■” 

“Ah,  what  a well-grown  lad  that  is  wasted ! ” 

“ More  than  suspects — and  if  his  story  is  true,  I more 
than  suspect  too — that  Pelagia  is  his  sister.” 

“ His  sister  ? But  what  of  that  ? ” 

“ He  wants,  of  course,  to  carry  her  off,  and  make  a 
nun  of  her.” 

“You  would  not  let  him  do  such  a thing  to  the  poor 
child  ? ” 

“If  folks  get  in  my  way,  Smid,  they  must  go  down. 
So  much  the  worse  for  them;  but  old  Wulf  was  never 


360 


HYPATIA. 


turned  back  yet  by  man  or  beast,  and  he  will  not  be 
now.” 

“ After  all,  it  will  serve  the  hussy  right.  But  Amal- 
ric  ? ” 

“ Out  of  sight,  out  of  mind.” 

“ But  they  say  the  prefect  means  to  marry  the  girl.” 

“ He  ? That  scented  ape  ? She  would  not  be  such  a 
wretch.” 

" But  he  does  intend : and  she  intends  too.  It  is  the 
talk  of  the  whole  town.  We  should  have  to  put  him 
out  of  the  way  first.” 

“ Why  not  ? Easy  enough,  and  a good  riddance  for 
Alexandria.  Yet  if  we  made  away  with  him  we  should 
be  forced  to  take  the  city  too;  and  I doubt  whether 
we  have  hands  enough  for  that.” 

“The  guards  might  join  us.  X will  go  down  to  the 
barracks  and  try  them,  if  you  choose,  to-morrow.  I 
am  boon  companion  with  a good  many  of  them  al- 
ready. But,  after  all,  Prince  Wulf — of  course  you  are 
always  right:  we  all  know  that — but  what’s  the  use 
of  marrying  this  Hypatia  to  the  Amal  ? ” 

“Use?”  said  Wulf,  smiting  down  his  goblet  on  the 
pavement.  “Use?  you  purblind  old  hamster-rat,  who 
think  of  nothing  but  filling  your  own  cheek-pouches! 
To  give  him  a wife  worthy  of  a hero,  as  he  is,  in  spite 
of  all — a wife  who  will  make  him  sober  instead  of 
drunk,  wise  instead  of  a fool,  daring  instead  of  a slug- 
gard— a wife  who  can  command  the  rich  people  for  us, 
and  give  us  a hold  here,  which  if  once  we  get,  let  us 
see  who  will  break  it ! Why,  with  those  two  ruling  in 
Alexandria,  we  might  be  masters  of  Africa  in  three 
months.  We’d  send  to  Spain  for  the  Wendels,  to  move 
on  Carthage;  we’d  send  up  the  Adriatic  for  the  Long- 
beards  to  land  in  Pentapolis;  we’d  sweep  the  whole 
ooast  without  losing  a man,  now  it  is  drained  of  troops 


HYPATIA. 


361 


by  that  fool  Heraclian’s  Roman  expedition;  make  the 
Wendels  and  Longbeards  shake  hands  here  in  Alex- 
andria ; draw  lots  for  their  shares  of  the  coast ; and 

then ” - 

“And  then  what  ? ” 

“ Why,  when  we  had  settled  Africa,  I would  call  out 
a crew  of  picked  heroes,  and  sail  away  south  for  As- 
gard — Fd  try  that  Red  Sea  this  time — and  see  Odin 
face  to  face,  or  die  searching  for  him.” 

“ Oh ! 99  groaned  Smid.  “And  I suppose  you  would 
expect  me  to  come  too,  instead  of  letting  me  stop  half- 
way, and  settle  here  among  the  dragons  and  elephants. 
Well,  well,  wise  men  are  like  moorlands — ride  as  far 
as  you  will  on  the  sound  ground,  you  are  sure  to  come 
upon  a soft  place  at  last.  However,  I will  go  down  to 
the  guards  to-morrow,  if  my  head  don’t  ache.” 

“And  I will  see  the  boy  about  Pelagia.  Drink  to 
our  plot ! ” 

And  the  two  old  iron-heads  drank  on,  till  the  stars 
paled  out  and  the  eastward  shadow  of  the  cloister 
vanished  in  the  blaze  of  dawn. 


362 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

JEWS  AGAINST  CHRISTIANS. 

The  little  porter,  after  having*  carried  Arsenius’s 
message  to  Miriam,  had  run  back  in  search  of  Philam- 
mon  and  his  foster-father;  and  not  finding  them,  had 
spent  the  evening  in  such  frantic  rushing  to  and  fro,  as 
produced  great  doubts  of  his  sanity  among  the  people 
of  the  quarter.  At  last  hunger  sent  him  home  to  sup- 
per; at  which  meal  he  tried  to  find  vent  for  his  excited 
feelings  in  his  favorite  employment  of  beating  his  wife. 
Whereon  Miriam’s  two  Syrian  slave-girls,  attracted 
by  her  screams,  came  to  the  rescue,  threw  a pail  of 
water  over  him,  and  turned  him  out-of-doors.  He, 
nothing’  discomfited,  likened  himself  smilingly  to  Soc- 
rates conquered  by  Xantippe  and,  philosophically 
yielding  to  circumstances,  hopped  about  like  a tame 
magpie  for  a couple  of  hours  at  the  entrance  of  the 
alley,  pouring  forth  a stream  of  light  raillery  on  the 
passers  by,  which  several  times  endangered  his  per- 
sonal safety:  till  at  last  Philammon,  hurrying  breath- 
lessly home,  rushed  into  his  arms. 

“ Hush!  Hither  with  me!  Your  star  still  prospers. 
She  calls  for  you.” 

“Who?” 

“ Miriam  herself.  Be  secret  as  the  grave.  You  she 
will  see  and  speak  with.  The  message  of  Arsenius  she 
rejected  in  language  which  it  is  unnecessary  for  philo- 
sophic lips  to  repeat.  Come;  but  give  her  good  words 


HYPATIA. 


363 


— as  are  fit  to  an  enchantress  who  can  stay  the  stars 
in  their  course,  and  command  the  spirits  of  the  third 
heaven.” 

Philammon  hurried  home  with  Eudaemon.  Little 
cared  he  now  for  Hypatia’s  warning*  against  Miriam. 
. . . Was  he  not  in  search  of  a sister? 

“ So,  you  wretch,  you  are  hack  again ! ” cried  one  of 
the  girls,  as  they  knocked  at  the  outer  door  of  Miriam’s 
apartments.  “ What  do  you  mean  by  bringing  young 
men  here  at  this  time  of  night  ? ” 

“ Better  go  down,  and  beg  pardon  of  that  poor  wife 
of  yours.  She  has  been  weeping  and  praying  for  you 
to  her  crucifix  all  the  evening,  you  ungrateful  little 
ape ! ” 

“ Female  superstitions — but  I forgive  her.  . . . Peace, 
barbarian  women ! I bring  this  youthful  philosopher 
hither  by  your  mistress’s  own  appointment.” 

“ He  must  wait,  then,  in  the  anteroom.  There  is  a 
gentleman  with  my  mistress  at  present.” 

So  Philammon  waited  in  a dark,  dingy  anteroom, 
luxuriously  furnished  with  faded  tapestry,  and  divans 
which  lined  the  walls;  and  fretted  and  fidgeted,  while 
the  two  girls  watched  him  over  their  embroidery  out 
of  the  corners  of  their  eyes,  and  agreed  that  he  was  a 
very  stupid  person  for  showing  no  inclination  to  return 
their  languishing  glances. 

In  the  mean  while,  Miriam,  within,  was  listening,  with 
a smile  of  grim  delight,  to  a swartl^  and  weather- 
beaten young  Jew. 

“ I knew,  mother  in  Israel,  that  all  depended  on  my 
pace;  and  night  and  day  I rode  from  Ostia  toward 
Tarentum;  but  the  messenger  of  the  uncircumcised 
was  better  mounted  than  I : I therefore  bribed  a cer- 
tain slave  to  lame  his  horse,  and  passed  him  by  a 
whole  stage  on  the  second  day.  Nevertheless,  by 


364 


HYPATIA. 


night  the  Philistine  had  caught  me  up  again,  the  evil 
angels  helping  him;  and  my  soul  was  mad  within 
me.” 

“And  what  then,  Jonabad  Bar  Zebudah?” 

“ I bethought  me  of  Ehud,  and  of  Joab  also,  when 
he  was  pursued  by  Asahel,  and  considered  much  of 
the  lawfulness  of  the  deed,  not  being  a man  of  blood. 
Nevertheless,  we  were  together  in  the  darkness,  and  I 
smote  him.” 

Miriam  clapped  her  hands. 

“ Then  putting  on  his  clothes,  and  taking  his  letters 
and  credentials,  as  was  but  reasonable,  I passed  my- 
self off  for  the  messenger  of  the  emperor,  and  so  rode 
the  rest  of  that  journey  at  the  expense  of  the  heathen; 
and  I hereby  return  you  the  balance  saved.” 

“Never  mind  the  balance.  Keep  it,  thou  worthy 
son  of  Jacob.  What  next  ? ” 

“ When  I came  to  Tarentum,  I sailed  in  the  galley 
which  I had  chartered  from  certain  sea-robbers.  Val- 
iant men  they  were,  nevertheless,  and  kept  true  faith 
with  me.  For  when  we  had  come  half-way,  rowing 
with  all  our  might,  behold  another  galley  coming  in 
our  wake  and  about  to  pass  us  by,  which  I knew  for 
an  Alexandrian,  as  did  the  captain  also,  who  assured 
me  that  she  had  come  from  hence  to  Brundusium  with 
letters  from  Orestes.” 

“ Well  ? ” 

“ It  seemed  to  me  both  base  to  be  passed,  and  more 
base  to  waste  all  the  expense  wherewith  you  and  our 
elders  had  charged  themselves;  so  I took  counsel  with 
the  man  of  blood,  offering  him,  over  and  above  our 
bargain,  two  hundred  gold  pieces  of  my  own,  which 
please  to  pay  to  my  account  with  Rabbi  Ezekiel,  who 
lives  by  the  water-gate  in  Pelusium.  Then  the  pirates, 
taking  counsel,  agreed  to  run  down  the  enemy;  for 


On  the  cushions  beside  her  glittered  splendid  jewels. 


HYPATIA. 


367 


our  galley  was  a sharp-beaked  Liburnian,  while  theirs 
was  only  a messenger  trireme/’ 

“And  you  did  it  ? ” 

“Else  had  I not  been  here.  They  were  delivered 
into  our  hands,  so  that  we  struck  them  full  in  mid- 
length, and  they  sank  like  Pharaoh  and  his  host/’ 

“ So  perish  all  the  enemies  of  the  nation ! ” cried 
Miriam.  “And  now  it  is  impossible,  you  say,  for  fresh 
news  to  arrive  for  these  ten  days  ? ” 

“ Impossible,  the  captain  assured  me,  owing  to  the 
rising  of  the  wind,,  and  the  signs  of  southerly  storm.” 
“Here,  take  this  letter  for  the  chief  rabbi,  and  the 
blessing  of  a mother  in  Israel.  Thou  hast  played  the 
man  for  thy  people;  and  thou  shalt  go  to  the  grave 
full  of  years  and  honors,  with  men-servants  and  maid- 
servants, gold  and  silver,  children  and  children’s  chil- 
dren, with  thy  foot  on  the  necks  of  heathens,  and  the 
blessing  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  to  eat  of  the 
goose  which  is  fattening  in  the  desert,  and  the  Levia- 
than which  lieth  in  the  great  sea,  to  be  meat  for  all 
true  Israelites  at  the  last  day.” 

And  the  Jew  turned  and  went  out,  perhaps,  in  his 
simple  fanaticism,  the  happiest  man  in  Egypt  at  that 
moment. 

He  passed  out  through  the  antechamber,  leering  at 
the  slave-girls,  and  scowling  at  Philammon ; and  the 
youth  was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  Miriam. 

She  sat,  coiled  up  like  a snake,  on  a divan,  writing 
busily  in  a tablet  upon  her  knees,  while  on  the  cushions 
beside  her  glittered  splendid  jewels,  which  she  had 
been  fingering  over  as  a child  might  its  toys.  She  did 
not  look  up  for  a few  minutes;  and  Philammon  could 
not  help,  in  spite  of  his  impatience,  looking  round  the 
little  room  and  contrasting  its  dirty  splendor,  and  heavy 
odor  of  wine,  and  food,  and  perfumes,  with  the  sunny 


308 


HYPATIA. 


grace  and  cleanliness  of  Greek  houses.  Against  the 
wall  stood  presses  and  chests  fretted  with  fantastic 
Oriental  carving;  illuminated  rolls  of  parchment  la}" 
in  heaps  in  a corner;  a lamp  of  strange  form  hung 
from  the  ceiling,  and  shed  a dim  and  lurid  light  upon 
an  object  which  chilled  the  youth’s  blood  for  a moment 
— a bracket  against  the  wall,  on  which,  in  a plate  of 
gold,  engraven  with  mystic  signs,  stood  the  mummy 
of  an  infant’s  head;  one  of  those  teraphim,  from  which, 
as  Philammon  knew,  the  sorcerers  of  the  East  pro- 
fessed to  evoke  oracular  responses. 

At  last,  she  looked  up,  and  spoke  in  a shrill,  harsh 
voice. 

“ Well,  my  fair  boy,  and  what  do  you  want  with  the 
poor  old  proscribed  Jewess  ? Have  you  coveted  yet 
any  of  the  pretty  things  which  she  has  had  the  wit  to 
make  her  slave-demons  save  from  the  Christian  rob- 
bers?” 

Pliilammon’s  tale  was  soon  told.  The  old  woman 
listened,  watching  him  intently  with  her  burning  eye; 
and  then  answered  slowly — 

“Well,  and  what  if  you  are  a slave ?” 

“Am  I one,  then  ? Am  I ? ” 

“ Of  course  you  are.  Arsenius  spoke  truth.  I saw 
him  buy  you  at  Ravenna,  just  fifteen  years  ago.  I 
bought  your  sister  at  the  same  time.  She  is  two-and- 
twenty  now.  You  were  four  years  younger  than  she, 
I should  say.” 

“ O heavens ! and  you  know  my  sister  still  ? Is 
she  Pelagia  ? ” 

“You  were  a pretty  boy,”  went  on  the  hag,  appar- 
ently not  hearing  him.  “ If  I had  thought  you  were 
going  to  grow  up  as  beautiful  and  as  clever  as  you 
are,  I would  have  bought  you  myself.  The  Goths 
were  just  marching,  and  Arsenius  gave  only  eighteen 


HYPATIA. 


369 


gold  pieces  for  you — or  twenty — I am  growing  old,  and 
forget  everything,  I think.  But  there  would  have  been 
the  expense  of  your  education,  and  your  sister  cost  me 
in  training — oh,  what  sums!  Not  that  she  was  not 
worth  the  money — no,  no,  the  darling ! ” 

“And  you  know  where  she  is  ? Oh,  tell  me — in  the 
name  of  mercy,  tell  me ! ” 

“ Why,  then  ? ” 

“ Why,  then  ? Have  you  not  the  heart  of  a human 
being  in  you  ? Is  she  not  my  sister  ? ” 

“Well?  You  have  done  very  well  for  fifteen  years 
without  your  sister — why  can  you  not  do  as  well  now  ? 
You  don’t  recollect  her — you  don’t  love  her.” 

“Not  love  her?  I would  die  for  her — die  for  you  if 
you  will  but  help  me  to  see  her ! ” 

“You  would,  would  you?  And  if  I brought  you  to 
her,  what  then  ? What  if  she  were  Pelagia  herself, 
what  then  ? She  is  happy  enough  now,  and  rich 
enough.  Could  you  make  her  happier  or  richer?” 

“ Can  you  ask  ? I must — I will — reclaim  her  from 
the  infamy  in  which  I am  sure  she  lives.” 

“Ah,  ha,  sir  monk!  I expected  as  much.  I know, 
none  knows  better,  what  those  fine  words  mean.  The 
burnt  child  dreads  the  fire : but  the  burnt  old  woman 
quenches  it,  you  will  find.  Now  listen.  I do  not  say 
that  you  shall  not  see  her,  I don’t  say  that  Pelagia 
herself  is  not  the  woman  whom  you  seek — but — you 
are  in  my  power.  Don’t  frown  and  pout.  I can  de- 
liver you  as  a slave  to  Arsenius  when  I choose.  One 
word  from  me  to  Orestes,  and  you  are  in  fetters  as  a 
fugitive.” 

“ I will  escape ! ” cried  he,  fiercely. 

“Escape  me!  ” — she  laughed,  pointing  to  the  teraph 
— “ Me,  who,  if  you  fled  beyond  Kaf,  or  dived  to  the 
depths  of  the  ocean,  could  make  these  dead  lips  confess 
24 


370 


HYPATIA. 


where  you  were,  and  command  demons  to  bear  you 
back  to  me  upon  their  wings ! Escape  me ! Better  to 
obey  me,  and  see  your  sister.” 

Philammon  shuddered  and  submitted.  The  spell  of 
the  woman's  eye,  the  terror  of  her  words,  which  he 
half  believed,  and  the  agony  of  longing  conquered  him 
and  he  gasped  out — 

“ I will  obey  you — only — only ” 

“ Only  you  are  not  quite  a man  yet,  but  half  a monk 
still,  eh  ? I must  know  that  before  I help  you,  my 
pretty  boy.  Are  you  a monk  still,  or  a man  ? ” 
“What  do  you  mean  ?” 

“Ah,  ha,  ha ! ” laughed  she  shrilly.  “And  these 
Christian  dogs  don't  know  what  a man  means  ? Are 
you  a monk,  then  ? leaving  the  man  alone,  as  above 
your  understanding.'' 

“ I ? — I am  a student  of  philosophy.'' 

“ But  no  man  ? '' 

“ I am  a man,  I suppose.” 

“I  don't;  if  you  had  been,  you  would  have  been 
making  love  like  a man  to  that  heathen  woman  many 
a month  ago.” 

“ I — to  her  ? ” 

“Yes,  I — to  her!”  said  Miriam,  coarsely  imitating 
his  tone  of  shocked  humility.  “ I,  the  poor  penniless 
boy  scholar,  to  her,  the  great  rich,  wise,  worshipped 
she-pliilosopher,  who  holds  the  sacred  keys  of  the  inner 
shrine  of  the  east  wind — and  just  because  I am  a man, 
and  the  handsomest  man  in  Alexandria,  and  she  a 
woman,  and  the  vainest  woman  in  Alexandria,  and 
therefore  I am  stronger  than  she,  and  can  twist  her 
round  my  finger,  and  bring  her  to  her  knees  at  my 
feet  when  I like,  as  soon  as  I open  my  eyes,  and  dis- 
cover that  I am  a man.  Eh,  boy  ? Did  she  ever  teach 
you  that  among  her  mathematics  and  metaphysics, 
and  gods  and  goddesses?” 


HYPATIA. 


371 


Philammon  stood  blushing  scarlet.  The  sweet  poi- 
son had  entered,  and  every  vein  glowed  with  it  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life.  Miriam  saw  her  advantage. 

“ There,  there — don’t  be  frightened  at  your  new  les- 
son. After  all,  I liked  you  from  the  first  moment  I 
saw  you,  and  asked  the  teraph  about  you,  and  I got 
an  answer — such  an  answer!  You  shall  know  it  some 
day.  At  all  events,  it  set  the  poor  old  soft-hearted 
Jewess  on  throwing  away  her  money.  Did  you  ever 
guess  from  whom  your  monthly  gold  pieces  came  ? ” 

Philammon  started,  and  Miriam  burst  into  loud  shrill 
laughter. 

“ Prom  Hypatia,  I’ll  warrant ! Prom  the  fair  Greek 
woman,  of  course — vain  child  that  you  are — never 
thinking  of  the  poor  old  Jewess.” 

“And  did  you  ? did  you  ? ” gasped  Philammon. 
“ Have  I to  thank  you,  then,  for  that  strange  gener- 
osity ? ” 

“Not  to  thank  me  but  to  obey  me:  for  mind,  I can 
prove  your  debt  to  me,  every  obol,  and  claim  it  if  I 
choose.  But  don’t  fear;  I won’t  be  hard  on  you  just 
because  you  are  in  my  power.  I hate  every  one  who  is 
not  so.  As  soon  as  I have  a hold  on  them,  I begin  to 
love  them.  Old  folks,  like  children,  are  fond  of  their 
own  playthings.” 

“And  I am  yours  then  ? ” said  Philammon,  fiercely. 

“You  are  indeed,  my  beautiful  boy,”  answered  she, 
looking  up  with  so  insinuating  a smile  that  he  could 
not  be  angry.  “After  all,  I know  how  to  toss  my  balls 
gently — and  for  these  forty  years  I have  only  lived  to 
make  young  folks  happy ; so  you  need  not  be  afraid  of 
the  poor  soft-hearted  old  woman.  Now — you  saved 
Orestes’  life  yesterday.” 

“ How  did  you  find  out  that  ?” 

“ I ? I know  everything.  I know  what  the  swallows 


372 


HYPATIA. 


say  when  they  pass  each  other  on  the  wing,  and  what 
the  fishes  think  of  in  the  summer  sea.  You,  too,  will 
be  able  to  guess  some  day,  without  the  teraph’s  help. 
But  in  the  mean  time  you  must  enter  Orestes’  service. 
Why  ? What  are  you  hesitating  about  ? Do  you  not 
know  that  you  are  high  in  his  favor  ? He  will  make 
you  secretary — raise  you  to  be  chamberlain  some  day, 
if  you  know  how  to  make  good  use  of  your  fortune.” 
Philammon  stood  in  astonished  silence;  and  at  last — 
" Servant  to  that  man  ? What  care  I for  him  or  his 
honors?  Why  do  you  tantalize  me  thus ? I have  no 
wish  on  earth  but  to  see  my  sister.” 

"You  will  be  far  more  likely  to  see  her  if  you  belong 
to  the  court  of  a great  officer — perhaps  more  than  an 
officer — than  if  you  remain  a penniless  monk.  Not 
that  I believe  you.  Your  only  wish  on  earth,  eh  ? Do 
you  not  care,  then,  ever  to  see  the  fair  Hypatia  again  ? ” 
" I ? Why  should  I not  see  her  ? Am  I not  her 
pupil  ? ” 

"She  will  not  have  pupils  much  longer,  my  child. 
If  you  wish  to  hear  her  wisdom — and  much  good  may 
it  do  you — you  must  go  for  it  henceforth  somewhat 
nearer  to  Orestes’  palace  than  the  lecture-room  is. 
Ah ! you  start.  Have  I found  you  an  argument  now  ? 
No — ask  no  questions.  I explain  nothing  to  monks. 
But  take  these  letters;  to-morrow  morning  at  the 
third  hour  go  to  Orestes’  palace,  and  ask  for  his  secre- 
tary, Ethan  the  Chaldee.  Say  boldly  that  you  bring 
important  news  of  state;  and  then  folloAv  your  star: 
it  is  a fairer  one  than  you  fancy.  Go!  obey  me,  or 
you  see  no  sister.” 

Philammon  felt  himself  trapped;  but,  after  all,  what 
might  not  this  strange  woman  do  for  him  ? It  seemed, 
if  not  his  only  path,  still  his  nearest  path  to  Pelagia; 
and  in  the  mean  while  he  was  in  the  hag’s  power,  and 


HYPATIA. 


373 


he  must  submit  to  his  fate;  so  he  took  the  letters  and 
went  out. 

“And  so  you  think  that  you  are  going1  to  have  her  ? ” 
chuckled  Miriam  to  herself,  when  Philammon  went 
out.  “ To  make  a penitent  of  her,  eh  ? a nun,  or  a she- 
hermit;  to  set  her  to  appease  your  God  by  crawling 
on  all-fours  among  the  mummies  for  twenty  years, 
with  a chain  round  her  neck  and  a clog  at  her  ankle, 
fancying  herself  all  the  while  the  bride  of  the  Naza- 
rene  ? And  you  think  that  old  Miriam  is  going  to  give 
her  up  to  you  for  that?  No,  no,  sir  monk!  Better 
she  were  dead ! . . . Follow  your  dainty  bait ! — follow 
it,  as  the  donkey  does  the  grass  which  his  driver  offers 
him,  always  an  inch  from  his  nose.  ...  You  in  my 
power!  and  Orestes  in  my  power!  ...  I must  nego- 
tiate that  new  loan  to-morrow,  I suppose.  ...  I shall 
never  be  paid.  The  dog  will  ruin  me,  after  all!  How 
much  is  it  now  ? Let  me  see.”  . . . And  she  began 
fumbling  in  her  escritoire,  over  bonds  and  notes  of 
hand.  “I  shall  never  be  paid:  but  power — to  have 
power!  To  see  those  heathen  slaves  and  Christian 
hounds  plotting  and  vaporing,  and  fancying  them- 
selves the  masters  of  the  world,  and  never  dreaming 
that  we  are  pulling  the  strings,  and  that  they  are  our 
puppets!  we  the  children  of  the  promises — we,  The 
Nation — we,  the  seed  of  Abraham!  Poor  fools!  I 
could  almost  pity  them  as  I think  of  their  faces  when 
Messiah  comes,  and  they  find  out  who  were  the  true 
lords  of  the  world,  after  all ! . . . He  must  be  Emperor 
of  the  South,  though,  that  Orestes;  he  must,  though 
I have  to  lend  him  Raphael’s  jewels  to  make  him  so. 
For  he  must  marry  the  Greek  woman.  He  shall.  She 
hates  him,  of  course.  ...  So  much  the  deeper  revenge 
for  me.  And  she  loves  that  monk.  I saw  it  in  her 
eyes  there  in  the  garden.  So  much  the  better  for  me, 


374 


HYPATIA. 


too.  He  will  dangle  willingly  enough  at  Orestes’  heels 
for  the  sake  of  being  near  her — poor  fool!  We  will 
make  him  secretary,  or  chamberlain.  He  has  wit 
enough  for  it,  they  say,  or  for  anything.  So  Orestes 
and  he  shall  be  the  two  jaws  of  my  pincers,  to  squeeze 
what  I want  out  of  the  Greek  Jezebel.  . . . And  then 
— then  for  the  black  agate ! ” 

Was  the  end  of  her  speech  a bathos  ? Perhaps  not; 
for  as  she  spoke  the  last  word,  she  drew  from  her 
bosom,  where  it  hung  round  her  neck  by  a chain,  a 
broken  talisman,  exactly  similar  to  the  one  which  she 
coveted  so  fiercely,  and  looked  at  it  long  and  lovingly 
— kissed  it — wept  over  it — spoke  to  it — fondled  it  in 
her  arms  as  a mother  would  a child — murmured  over 
it  snatches  of  lullabies;  and  her  grim,  withered  fea- 
tures grew  softer,  purer,  grander;  and  rose  ennobled, 
for  a moment,  to  their  long  lost  might-have-been,  to 
that  personal  ideal  which  every  soul  brings  with  it  into 
the  world,  which  shines,  dim  and  potential,  in  the  face 
of  every  sleeping  babe,  before  it  has  been  scarred,  and 
distorted,  and  encrusted  in  the  long  tragedy  of  life. 
Sorceress  she  was,  pander  and  slave-dealer,  steeped  to 
the  lips  in  falsehood,  ferocity,  and  avarice;  yet  that 
paltry  stone  brought  home  to  her  some  thought,  true, 
spiritual,  impalpable,  unmarketable,  before  which  all 
her  treasures  and  all  her  ambition  were  as  worthless 
in  her  own  eyes  as  they  were  in  the  eyes  of  the  angels 
of  God. 

But  little  did  Miriam  think  that  at  the  same  moment 
a brawny,  clownish  monk  was  standing  in  Cyril’s  pri- 
vate chamber,  and,  indulged  with  the  special  honor  of 
a cup  of  good  wine  in  the  patriarch’s  very  presence, 
was  telling  to  him  and  Arsenius  the  following  history : 

“So  I,  finding  that  the  Jews  had  chartered  this 
pirate  ship,  went  to  the  master  thereof,  and  finding 


HYPATIA. 


375 


favor  in  his  eyes,  hired  myself  to  row  therein,  being 
sure,  from  what  I had  overheard  from  the  Jews,  that 
she  was  destined  to  bring  the  news  to  Alexandria  as 
quickly  as  possible.  Therefore,  fulfilling  the  work 
which  his  holiness  had  intrusted  to  my  incapacity,  I 
embarked,  and  rowed  continually  among  the  rest;  and 
being  unskilled  in  such  labor,  received  many  curses 
and  stripes  in  the  cause  of  the  Church — the  which  I 
trust  are  laid  to  my  account  hereafter.  Moreover, 
Satan  entered  into  me,  desiring  to  slay  me,  and  almost 
tore  me  asunder,  so  that  I vomited  much,  and  loathed 
all  manner  of  meat.  Nevertheless,  I rowed  on  val- 
iantly, being  such  as  I am,  vomiting  continually,  till 
the  heathens  were  moved  with  wonder,  and  forbore  to 
beat  me,  giving  me  strong  liquors  in  pity;  wherefore 
I rowed  all  the  more  valiantly  day  and  night,  trusting 
that  by  my  unworthiness  the  cause  of  the  Catholic 
Church  might  be  in  some  slight  wise  assisted/’ 

“ And  so  it  is,”  quoth  Cyril.  “ Why  do  you  not  sit 
down,  man  ? ” 

“ Pardon  me,”  quoth  the  monk,  with  a piteous  ges- 
ture; “of  sitting,  as  of  all  carnal  pleasure,  cometh 
satiety  at  the  last.” 

“And  now,”  said  Cyril,  “ what  reward  am  I to  give 
you  for  your  good  service  ? ” 

“ It  is  reward  enough  to  know  that  I have  done  good 
service.  Nevertheless,  if  the  holy  patriarch  be  so  in- 
clined without  reason,  there  is  an  ancient  Christian, 

my  mother  according  to  the  flesh ” 

“ Come  to  me  to-morrow,  and  she  shall  be  well  seen 
to.  And  mind — look  to  it,  if  I make  you  not  a deacon 
of  the  city,  when.  I promote  Peter.” 

The  monk  kissed  his  superior’s  hand,  and  withdrew* 
Cyril  turned  to  Arsenius,  betrayed  for  once  into  genial- 
ity by  his  delight  and  smiting  his  thigh — 


376 


HYPATIA. 


“We  have  beaten  the  heathen  once,  eh?”  And 
then  in  the  usual  artificial  tone  of  the  ecclesiastic, 
“ And  what  would  my  father  recommend  in  further- 
ance of  the  advantage  so  mercifully  thrown  into  our 
hand  ? ” 

Arsenius  was  silent. 

“ I,”  went  on  Cyril,  “ should  be  inclined  to  announce 
the  news  this  very  night,  in  my  sermon.” 

Arsenius  shook  his  head. 

" Why  not?  why  not?”  asked  Cyril,  impatiently. 

“ Better  to  keep  it  secret  till  others  tell  it.  Reserved 
knowledge  is  always  reserved  strength;  and  if  the 
man,  as  I hope  he  does  not,  intends  evil  to  the  Church, 
let  him  commit  himself  before  you  use  your  knowledge 
against  him.  True,  you  may  have  a scruple  of  con- 
science as  to  the  lawfulness  of  allowing  a sin  which 
you  might  prevent.  To  me  it  seems  that  the  sin  lies 
in  the  will  rather  than  in  the  deed,  and  that  some- 
times— I only  say  sometimes — it  may  be  a means  of 
saving  the  sinner. to  allow  his  root  of  iniquity  to  bear 
fruit,  and  fill  him  with  his  own  devices.” 

“ Dangerous  doctrine,  my  father.” 

“ Like  all  sound  doctrine — a savor  of  life  or  of  death, 
according  as  it  is  received.  I have  not  said  it  to  the 
multitude,  but  to  a discerning  brother.  And  even 
politically  speaking — let  him  commit  himself,  if  he  be 
really  plotting  rebellion,  and  then  speak,  and  smite  his 
Babel  tower.” 

'‘  You  think,  that  he  does  not  know  of  Heraclian's 
defeat  already  ? ” 

"If  he  does,  he  will  keep  it  secret  from  the  people; 
and  our  chances  of  turning  them  suddenly  will  be 
nearly  the  same.” 

“ Good.  After  all,  the  existence  of  the  Catholic 
Church  in  Alexandria  depends  on  this  struggle,  and  it 


HYPATIA. 


377 


is  well  to  be  wary.  Be  it  so.  It  is  well  for  me  that  I 
have  you  for  an  adviser.” 

And  thus  Cyril,  usually  the  most  impatient  and  in- 
tractable of  plotters,  gave  in,  as  wise  men  should,  to  a 
wiser  man  than  himself  and  made  up  his  mind  to  keep 
the  secret,  and  to  command  the  monk  to  keep  it  also. 

Philammon,  after  a sleepless  night  and  a welcome 
visit  to  the  public  baths,  which  the  Roman  tyranny, 
wiser  in  its  generation  than  modern  liberty,  provided 
so  liberally  for  its  victims,  set  forth  to  the  prefects 
palace,  and  gave  his  message;  but  Orestes,  who  had 
been  of  late  astonishing  the  Alexandrian  public  by  an 
unwonted  display  of  alacrity,  was  already  in  the  ad- 
joining Basilica.  Thither  the  youth  was  conducted  by 
an  apparitor,  and  led  up  the  centre  of  the  enormous 
hall,  gorgeous  with  frescoes  and  colored  marbles,  and 
surrounded  by  aisles  and  galleries,  in  which  the  in- 
ferior magistrates  were  hearing  causes,  and  doing  such 
justice  as  the  complicated  technicalities  of  Roman 
law  chose  to  mete  out.  Through  a crowd  of  anxious 
loungers  the  youth  passed  to  the  apse  of  the  upper 
end,  in  which  the  prefect’s  throne  stood  empty,  and 
then  turned  into  a side  chamber,  where  he  found  him- 
self alone  with  the  secretary,  a portly  Chaldee  eunuch, 
with  a sleek  pale  face,  small  pig’s  eyes,  and  an  enormous 
turban.  The  man  of  pen  and  paper  took  the  letter, 
opened  it  with  solemn  deliberation,  and  then,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet,  darted  out  of  the  room  in  most  undigni- 
fied haste,  leaving  Philammon  to  wait  and  wonder. 
In  half  an  hour  he  returned,  his  little  eyes  growing  big 
with  some  great  idea. 

“ Youth!  your  star  is  in  the  ascendant;  you  are  the 
fortunate  bearer  of  fortunate  news!  His  excellency 
himself  commands  your  presence.”  And  the  two  went 
out. 


378 


HYPATIA. 


In  another  chamber,  the  door  of  which  was  guarded 
by  armed  men,  Orestes  was  walking  up  and  down  in 
high  excitement,  looking  somewhat  the  worse  for  the 
events  of  the  past  night,  and  making  occasional  ap- 
peals to  a gold  goblet  which  stood  on  the  table. 

“Ha!  No  other  than  my  preserver  himself!  Boy, 
I will  make  your  fortune.  Miriam  says  that  you  wish 
to  enter  my  service.” 

Philammon,  not  knowing  what  to  say,  thought  the 
best  answer  would  be  to  bow  as  low  as  he  could. 

“Ah,  ah ! Graceful,  but  not  quite  according  to  eti- 
quette. You  will  soon  teach  him,  eh,  secretaiy  ? Now 
to  business.  Hand  me  the  notes  to  sign  and  seal.  To 
the  Prefect  of  the  Stationaries ” 

“ Here,  your  excellency.” 

“ To  the  Prefect  of  the  Corn-market — how  many 
wheat-ships  have  you  ordered  to  be  unladen  ? ” 

“ Two,  your  excellency.” 

“Well,  that  will  be  largess  enough  for  the  time 
being.  To  the  Defender  of  the  Plebs — the  devil  break 
his  neck!” 

“He  may  be  trusted,  most  noble;  he  is  bitterly  jeal- 
ous of  Cyril's  influence.  And,  moreover,  he  owes  my 
insignificance  much  money.” 

“Good.  Now  the  notes  to  the  Gaol-masters,  about 
the  gladiators.” 

“ Here,  your  excellency.” 

“To  Hypatia.  No.  I will  honor  my  bride  elect  with 
my  own  illustrious  presence.  As  I live,  here  is  a morn- 
ing's work  for  a man  with  a racking  headache ! ” 

“Your  excellency  has  the  strength  of  seven.  May 
you  live  forever ! ” 

And  really,  Orestes'  power  of  getting  through  busi- 
ness when  he  chose,  was  surprising  enough.  A cold 
head  and  a colder  heart  make  many  things  easy. 


HYPATIA. 


379 


But  Philammon’s  whole  soul  was  fixed  on  these 
words,  “His  bride  elect !”  ...  Was  it  that  Miriam’s 
hints  of  the  day  before  had  raised  some  selfish  vision, 
or  was  it  pity  and  horror  at  such  a fate  for  her — for 
his  idol  ? But  he  passed  five  minutes  in  a dream,  from 
which  he  was  awakened  by  a sound  of  another  and 
still  dearer  name. 

“And  now,  for  Pelagia.  We  can  but  try.” 

“Your  excellency  might  offend  the  Goth.” 

“ Curse  the  Goth ! He  shall  have  his  choice  of  all 
the  beauties  in  Alexandria,  and  be  Count  of  Pentapolis 
if  he  likes.  But  a spectacle  I must  have:  and  no  one 
but  Pelagia  can  dance  Venus  Anadyomene.” 

Philammon’s  blood  rushed  to  his  heart,  and  then 
back  again  to  his  brow,  as  he  reeled  with  horror  and 
shame. 

“ The  people  will  be  mad  with  joy  to  see  her  on  the 
stage  once  more.  Little  they  thought,  the  brutes,  how 
I was  plotting  for  their  amusement,  even  when  as 
drunk  as  Silenus.” 

“ Your  nobility  only  lives  for  the  good  of  your  slaves.” 

“Here,  boy!  So  fair  a lady  requires  a fair  mes- 
senger. You  shall  enter  on  my  service,  at  once,  and 
carry  this  letter  to  Pelagia.  Why  ? — why  do  you  not 
come  and  take  it  ? ” 

“ To  Pelagia  ? ” gasped  the  youth.  “ In  the  theatre  ? 
Publicly  ? Venus  Anadyomene  ? ” 

“Yes,  fool!  Were  you,  too,  drunk  last  night  after 
all?” 

“ She  is  my  sister ! ” 

“Well,  and  what  of  that?  Not  that  I believe  you, 
you  villain!  So!”  said  Orestes,  who  comprehended 
the  matter  in  an  instant.  “Apparitors ! ” 

The  door  opened  and  the  guard  appeared. 

“ Here  is  a good  boy  who  is  inclined  to  make  a fool 


380 


HYPATIA. 


of  himself.  Keep  him  out  of  harm’s  way  for  a few 
days.  But  don’t  hurt  him;  for,  after  all,  he  saved  my 
life  yesterday,  when  you  scoundrels  ran  away.” 

And,  without  further  ado,  the  hapless  youth  was 
collared  and  led  down  a vaulted  passage  into  the 
guardroom,  amid  the  jeers  of  the  guard,  who  seemed 
only  to  owe  him  a grudge  for  his  yesterday’s  prowess, 
and  showed  great  alacrity  in  fitting  him  with  a heavy 
set  of  irons;  which  done,  he  was  thrust  head  foremost 
into  a cell  of  the  prison,  locked  in,  and  left  to  his  medi- 
tations. 


HYPATIA, 


381 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER. 

“But,  fairest  Hypatia,  conceive  yourself  struck  in 
the  face  by  a great  stone,  several  hundred  howling 
wretches  leaping  up  at  you  like  wild  beasts — two  min- 
utes more,  and  you  are  torn  from  limb  to  limb.  What 
would  even  you  do  in  such  a case  ?” 

“Let  them  tear  me  limb  from  limb,  and  die  as  I 
have  lived.” 

“Ah,  but When  it  came  to  fact,  and  death  was 

staring  you  in  the  face  ? ” 

“And  why  should  man  fear  death  ? ” 

“Ahem!  No,  not  death,  of  course,  but  the  act  of 
dying.  That  may  be,  surely,  under  such  circumstances, 
to  say  the  least,  disagreeable.  If  our  ideal,  Julian  the 
Great,  found  a little  dissimulation  necessary,  and  was 
even  a better  Christian  than  I have  ever  pretended  to 
be,  till  he  found  himself  able  to  throw  off  the  mask, 
why  should  not  I ? Consider  me  as  a lower  being  than 
yourself — one  of  the  herd,  if  you  will;  but  a penitent 
member  thereof,  who  comes  to  make  the  fullest  possi- 
ble reparation,  by  doing  any  desperate  deed  on  which 
you  may  choose  to  put  him,  and  prove  myself  as  able 
and  willing,  if  once  I have  the  power,  as  Julian  him- 
self.” 

Such  was  the  conversation  which  passed  between 
Hypatia  and  Orestes  half  an  hour  after  Philammon 
had  taken  possession  of  his  new  abode. 


382 


HYPATIA. 


Hypatia  looked  at  the  prefect  with  calm  penetra- 
tion not  unmixed  with  scorn  and  fear. 

“And  pray  what  has  produced  this  sudden  change 
in  your  excellency’s  earnestness  ? For  four  months 


Hypatia  looked  at  the  prefect  with  calm  penetration  not  unmixed  with  scorn 

and  fear. 


your  promises  have  been  lying  fallow.”  She  did  not 
confess  how  glad  she  would  have  been  at  heart  to  see 
them  lying  fallow  still. 

“Because This  morning  I have  news;  which  I 

tell  to  you  the  first  as  a compliment.  We  will  take 


HYPATIA. 


383 


care  that  all  Alexandria  knows  it  before  sundown. 
Heraclian  has  conquered ! ” 

“Conquered?”  cried  Hypatia,  springing  from  her 
seat. 

“Conquered,  and  utterly  destroyed  the  emperor’s 
forces  at  Ostia.  So  says  a messenger  on  whom  I can 
depend.  And  even  if  the  news  should  prove  false,  I 
can  prevent  the  contrary  report  from  spreading,  or 
what  is  the  use  of  being  prefect?  You  demur?  Do 
you  not  see  that  if  we  can  keep  the  notion  alive  but  a 
week  our  cause  is  won  ? ” 

“ How  so  ? ” 

“ I have  treated  already  with  all  the  officers  of  the 
city,  and  every  one  of  them  has  acted  like  a wise  man, 
and  given  me  a promise  of  help,  conditional  of  course 
on  Heraclian’s  success,  being  tired  as  I am  of  that 
priest-ridden  court  at  Byzantium.  Moreover,  the 
Stationaries  are  mine  already.  So  are  the  soldiery  all 
the  way  up  the  Nile.  Ah!  you  have  been  fancying  me 

idle  for  these  four  months,  but You  forget  that 

you  yourself  were  the  prize  of  my  toil.  Could  I be  a 
sluggard  with  that  goal  in  sight  ? ” 

Hypatia  shuddered,  but  was  silent;  and  Orestes 
went  on — 

“ I have  unladen  several  of  the  wheat-ships  for  enor- 
mous largesses  of  bread ; though  those  rascally  monks 
of  Tabenne  had  nearly  forestalled  my  benevolence,  and 
I was  forced  to  bribe  a deacon  or  two,  buy  up  the 
stock  they  had  sent  down,  and  retail  it  again  as  my 
own.  It  is  really  most  officious  of  them  to  persist  in 
feeding  gratuitously  half  the  poor  of  the  city!  What 
possible  business  have  they  with  Alexandria  ? ” 

“ The  wish  for  popularity,  I presume.” 

“ Just  so ; and  then  what  hold  can  the  government 
have  on  a set  of  rogues  whose  stomachs  are  filled 
without  our  help  ? ” 


384 


IIYPATIA. 


“ Julian  made  the  same  complaint  to  the  high-priest 
of  Galatia,  in  that  priceless  letter  of  his.” 

“Ah,  you  will  set  that  all  right,  you  know,  shortly. 
Then  again,  Ido  not  fear  Cyril's  power  just  now.  He 
has  injured  himself  deeply,  I am  happy  to  say,  in  the 
opinion  of  the  wealthy  and  educated,  by  expelling  the 
Jews.  And  as  for  his  mob,  exactly  at  the  right  mo- 
ment, the  deities — there  are  no  monks  here,  so  I can 
attribute  my  blessings  to  the  right  source — have  sent 
us  such  a boon  as  may  put  them  into  as  good  a humor 
as  we  need.” 

“And  what  is  that  ? ” asked  Hypatia. 

“A  white  elephant.” 

“A  white  elephant  ? ” 

“Yes,”  he  answered,  mistaking  or  ignoring  the  tone 
of  her  answer.  “A  real,  live,  white  elephant ; a thing 
which  has  not  been  seen  in  Alexandria  for  a hundred 
years ! It  was  passing  through  with  two  tame  tigers, 
as  a present  to  the  boy  at  Byzantium,  from  some  hun- 
dred-wived kinglet  of  the  Hyperborean  Taprobane,  or 
other  no-man's-land  in  the  far  East.  I took  the  liberty 
of  laying  an  embargo  on  them,  and,  after  a little  argu- 
mentation and  a few  hints  of  torture,  elephant  and 
tigers  are  at  our  service.” 

“And  of  what  service  are  they  to  be  ? ” 

“My  dearest  madam Conceive.  . . . How  are 

we  to  win  the  mob  without  a show  ? . . . When  were 
there  more  than  two  ways  of  gaining  either  the  whole 
or  part  of  the  Homan  empire — by  force  of  arms  or  force 
of  trumpery  ? Can  even  you  invent  a third  ? The 
former  is  unpleasantly  exciting,  and  hardly  practicable 
just  now.  The  latter  remains;  and,  thanks  to  the 
white  elephant,  may  be  triumphantly  successful.  I 
have  to  exhibit  something  every  week.  The  people 
are  getting  tired  of  that  pantomime;  and  since  the 


HYPATIA. 


385 


Jews  were  driven  out,  the  fellow  has  grown  stupid  and 
lazy,  having  lost  the  more  enthusiastic  half  of  his 
spectators.  As  for  horse-racing,  they  are  sick  of  it. 

. . . Now,  suppose  we  announce,  for  the  earliest  possi- 
ble day— a spectacle — such  a spectacle  as  never  was 
seen  before  in  this  generation.  You  and  I — I as  ex- 
hibitor, you  as  representative — for  the  time  being  only 
— of  the  Yestals  of  old — sit  side  by  side.  . . . Some 
worthy  friend  has  his  instructions,  when  the  people 
are  beside  themselves  with  rapture,  to  cry,  ‘ Long  live 
Orestes  Caesar!  ’ . . . Another  reminds  them  of  Herac- 
lian’s  victory — another  couples  your  name  with  mine 
. . . the  people  applaud  . . . some  Mark  Antony  steps 
forward,  salutes  me  as  Imperator,  Augustus — what 
you  will — the  cry  is  taken  up — I refuse  as  meekly  as 
Julius  Caesar  himself — am  compelled,  blushing,  to  ac- 
cept the  honor — I rise,  make  an  oration  about  the  fu- 
ture independence  of  the  southern  continent — union  of 
Africa  and  Egypt — the  empire  no  longer  divided  into 
Eastern  and  Western,  but  Northern  and  Southern. 
Shouts  of  applause,  at  two  drachmas  per  man,  shake 
the  skies.  Everybody  believes  that  everybody  else 
approves,  and  follows  the  lead.  . . . And  the  thing  is 
won.” 

“And  pray,”  asked  Hypatia,  crushing  down  her  con- 
tempt and  despair,  “ how  is  this  to  bear  on  the  worship 
of  the  gods  ? ” 

“Why  . . . why  ...  if  you  thought  that  people’s 
minds  were  sufficiently  prepared,  you  might  rise  in. 
your  turn,  and  make  an  oration — you  can  conceive- 
one.  Set  forth  how  these  spectacles,  formerly  the 
glory  of  the  empire,  had  withered  under  Galilsean  su- 
perstition. . . . How  the  only  path  toward  the  full  en- 
joyment of  eye  and  ear  was  a frank  return  to  those? 
deities,  from  whose  worship  they  originally  sprung, 
25 


HYPATIA. 


386 


and  connected  with  which  they  could  alone  be  enjoyed 
in  their  perfection.  . . . But  I need  not  teach  you  how 
to  do  that  which  you  have  so  often  taught  me;  so  now 
to  consider  our  spectacle,  which,  next  to  the  largess, 
is  the  most  important  part  of  our  plans.  I ought  to 
have  exhibited  to  them  the  monk  who  so  nearly  killed 
me  yesterday.  That  would  indeed  have  been  a tri- 
umph of  the  laws  over  Christianity.  He  and  the  wild 
beasts  might  have  given  the  people  ten  minutes* 
amusement.  But  wrath  conquered  prudence;  and  the 
fellow  has  been  crucified  these  two  hours.  Suppose, 
then,  we  had  a little  exhibition  of  gladiators.  They 
are  forbidden  by  law,  certainly.** 

“ Thank  Heaven,  they  are!** 

“ But  do  you  not  see  that  is  the  very  reason  why  we, 
to  assert  our  own  independence,  should  employ  them  ?** 
“No!  they  are  gone.  Let  them  never  reappear  to 
disgrace  the  earth.** 

“ My  dear  lady,  you  must  not,  in  your  present  char- 
acter, say  that  in  public : lest  Cyril  should  be  imperti- 
nent enough  to  remind  you  that  Christian  emperors 
and  bishops  put  them  down.** 

Hypatia  bit  her  lip,  and  was  silent. 

“Well,  I do  not  wish  to  urge  anything  unpleasant 
to  you.  ...  If  we  could  but  contrive  a few  martyr- 
doms— but  I really  fear  we  must  wait  a year  or  two 
longer,  in  the  present  state  of  public  opinion,  before  we 
can  attempt  that.** 

“Wait  ? wait  forever!  Did  not  Julian — and  he  must 
he  our  model — forbid  the  persecution  of  the  Galilaeans, 
considering  them  sufficiently  punished  by  their  own 
atheism  and  self-tormenting  superstition  ? ** 

“Another  small  error  of  that  great  man.  He  should 
have  recollected  that  for  three  hundred  years,  nothing, 
not  even  the  gladiators  themselves,  had  been  found  to 


HYPATIA. 


387 


put  the  mob  in  such  good-humor  as  to  see  a few  Chris- 
tians, especially  young  and  handsome  women,  burned 
alive,  or  thrown  to  the  lions.” 

Hypatia  bit  her  lip  once  more.  “ I can  hear  no  more 
of  this,  sir.  You  forget  that  you  are  speaking  to  a 
woman.” 

“Most  supreme  wisdom,”  answered  Orestes,  in  his 
blandest  tone,  “you  cannot  suppose  that  I wish  to 
pain  your  ears.  But  allow  me  to  observe,  as  a general 
theorem,  that  if  one  wishes  to  effect  any  purpose,  it  is 
necessary  to  use  the  means;  and  on  the  whole,  those 
which  have  been  tested  by  four  hundred  years’  experi- 
ence will  be  the  safest.  I speak  as  a plain,  practical 
statesman — but  surely  your  philosophy  will  not  dis- 
sent ? ” 

Hypatia  looked  down  in  painful  thought.  What 
could  she  answer?  Was  it  not  too  true  ? and  had  not 
Orestes  fact  and  experience  on  his  side  ? 

“Well,  if  you  must — but  I cannot  have  gladiators. 
Why  not  a — one  of  those  battles  with  wild  beasts  ? 
They  are  disgusting  enough:  but  still  they  are  less 
inhuman  than  the  others;  and  you  might  surely  take 
precautions  to  prevent  the  men  being  hurt.” 

“Ah!  that  would  indeed  be  a scentless  rose!  if  there 
is  neither  danger  nor  bloodshed,  the  charm  is  gone. 
But  really  wild  beasts  are  too  expensive  just  now;  and 
if  I kill  down  my  present  menagerie,  I can  afford  no 
more.  Whj^  not  have  something  which  costs  no  money, 
like  prisoners  ? ” 

“ What ! do  you  rank  human  beings  below  brutes  ? ” 
“ Heaven  forbid ! But  they  are  practically  less  ex- 
pensive. Remember  that,  without  money,  we  are 
powerless;  we  must  husband  our  resources  for  the 
cause  of  the  gods.” 

Hypatia  was  silent. 


388 


HYPATIA. 


“Now,  there  are  fifty  or  sixty  Libyan  prisoners  just 
brought  in  from  the  desert.  Why  not  let  them  fight 
an  equal  number  of  soldiers  ? They  are  rebels  to  the 
empire,  taken  in  war.” 

“Ah,  then,”  said  Hypatia,  catching  at  any  thread  of 
self-justification,  “ their  lives  are  forfeit  in  any  case.” 

“ Of  course.  So  the  Christians  could  not  complain 
of  us  for  that.  Did  not  the  most  Christian  Emperor 
Constantine  set  some  three  hundred  German  prisoners 
to  butcher  each  other  in  the  amphitheatre  of  Treves  ? ” 

“ But  they  refused,  and  died  like  heroes,  each  falling 
on  his  own  sword.” 

“Ah  — those  Germans  are  always  unmanageable. 
My  guards,  now,  are  just  as  stiff-necked.  To  tell  you 
the  truth,  I have  asked  them  already  to  exhibit  their 
prowess  on  these  Libyans,  and  what  do  you  suppose 
they  answered  ? ” 

“ They  refused,  I hope.” 

“ They  told  me  in  the  most  insolent  tone  that  they 
were  men,  and  not  stage  players;  and  hired  to  fight, 
and  not  to  butcher.  I expected  a Socratic  dialogue 
after  such  a display  of  dialectic,  and  bowed  myself 
out.” 

“ They  were  right.” 

“Not  a doubt  of  it,  from  a philosophic  point  of  view; 
from  a practical  one  they  were  great  pedants,  and  I 
an  ill-used  master.  However,  I can  find  unfortunate 
and  misunderstood  heroes  enough  in  the  prisons,  who, 
for  the  chance  of  their  liberty  will  acquit  themselves 
valiantly  enough;  and  I know  of  a few  old  gladiators 
still  lingering  about  the  wine-shops,  who  will  be  proud 
enough  to  give  them  a week’s  training.  So  that  may 
pass.  Now  for  some  lighter  species  of  representation 
to  follow — something  more  or  less  dramatic.” 

“ You  forget  that  you  speak  to  one  who  trusts  to  be. 


HYPATIA. 


389 


as  soon  as  she  has  the  power/ the  high-priestess  of 
Athene,  and  who  in  the  mean  time  is  bound  to  obey  her 
tutor  Julian's  commands  to  the  priests  of  his  day,  and 
imitate  the  Galilaeans  as  much  in  their  abhorence  for 
the  theatre  as  she  hopes  hereafter  to  do  in  their  care 
for  the  widow  and  the  stranger." 

“Far  be  it  from  me  to  impugn  that  great  man’s 
wisdom.  But  allow  me  to  remark,  that  to  judge  by 
the  present  state  of  the  empire,  one  has  a right  to. say 
that  he  has  failed." 

“The  Sun  God  whom  he  loved  took  him  to  himself, 
too  early,  by  a hero’s  death." 

“And  the  moment  he  was  removed,  the  wave  of 
Christian  barbarism  rolled  back  again  into  its  old 
channel." 

“Ah ! had  he  but  lived  twenty  years  longer ! " 

“The  Sun  God,  perhaps,  was  not  so  solicitous  as  we 
are  for  the  success  of  his  high-priest’s  project." 

Hypatia  reddened — was  Orestes,  after  all,  laughing 
in  his  sleeve  at  her  and  her  hopes  ? 

“ Do  not  blaspheme ! ’’  she  said  solemnly. 

“ Heaven  forbid ! I only  offer  one  possible  explana- 
tion of  a plain  fact.  The  other  is,  that  as  Julian  was 
not  going  quite  the  right  way  to  work  to  restore  the 
worship  of  the  Olympians,  the  Sun  God  found  it  ex- 
pedient to  withdraw  him  from  his  post,  and  now  sends 
in  his  place  Hypatia  the  philosopher,  who  will  be  wise 
enough  to  avoid  Julian’s  error,  and  not  copy  the  Gali- 
laeans too  closely,  by  imitating  a severity  of  morals  at 
which  they  are  the  only  true  and  natural  adepts.". 

“ So  Julian’s  error  was  that  of  being  too  virtuous  ? 
If  it  be  so,  let  me  copy  him,  and  fail  like  him.  The 
fault  will  then  not  be  mine,  but  fate’s." 

“Not  in  being  too  virtuous  himself,  most  stainless 
likeness  of  Athene,  but  in  trying  to  make  others  so. 


390 


HYPATIA. 


He  forgot  one-half  of  Juvenal's  great  dictum  about 
‘ Panem  and  Circenses,'  as  the  absolute  and  overruling 
necessities  of  rulers.  He  tried  to  give  the  people  the 
bread  without  the  games.  . . . And  what  thanks  he 
received  for  his  enormous  influence,  let  himself  and  the 
good  folks  of  Antioch  tell — you  just  quoted  his  Miso- 
pogon •" 

“Ay — the  lament  of  a man  too  pure  for  his  age." 

“ Exactly  so.  He  should  rather  have  been  content 
to  keep  his  purity  to  himself,  and  have  gone  to  Antioch 
not  merely  as  a philosophic  high-priest,  with  a beard 
of  questionable  cleanliness,  to  offer  sacrifices  to  a god 
in  whom — forgive  me — nobody  in  Antioch  had  believed 
for  many  a year.  If  he  had  made  his  entrance  with 
ten  thousand  gladiators,  and  our  white  elephant,  built 
a theatre  of  ivory  and  glass  in  Daphnae,  and  pro- 
claimed games  in  honor  of  the  Sun,  or  of  any  other 
member  of  the  Pantheon " 

“ He  would  have  acted  unworthily  of  a philosopher." 

“ But  instead  of  that  one  priest  draggling  up,  poor 
devil,  through  the  wet  grass  to  the  deserted  altar  with 
his  solitary  goose  under  his  arm,  he  would  have  every 
goose  in  Antioch — forgive  my  stealing  a pun  from 
Aristophanes — running  open  mouthed  to  worship  any 
god,  known  or  unknown — and  to  see  the  sights." 

“ Well,"  said  Hypatia,  yielding  perforce  to  Orestes' 
cutting  arguments.  “ Let  us  then  restore  the  ancient 
glories  of  the  Greek  drama.  Let  us  give  them  a trilogy 
of  Aeschylus  or  Sophocles." 

“ Too  calm,  mjr  dear  madam.  The  Eumenides  might 
do  certainly,  or  Philoctetes,  if  we  could  but  put  Philoc- 
tetes  to  real  pain,  and  make  the  spectators  sure  that 
he  was  yelling  in  good  earnest." 

“ Disgusting ! " 

“ But  necessary,  like  many  disgusting  things." 


HYPATIA. 


391 


“ Why  not  try  the  Prometheus?” 

“A  magnificent  field  for  stage  effect  certainly.  What 
with  those  ocean  nymphs  in  their  winged  chariot,  and 
Ocean  on  his  griffin.  . . . But  I should  hardly  think  it 
safe  to  re-introduce  Zenus  and  Hermes  to  the  people 
under  the  somewhat  ugly  light  in  which  A£schylus 
exhibits  them.” 

“ I forgot  that,”  said  Hypatia.  “ The  Orestean  tri- 
logy will  be  best,  after  all.” 

“Best?  perfect — divine!  Ah,  that  it  were  to  be  my 
fate  to  go  down  to  posterity  as  the  happy  man  who 
once  more  revived  Aeschylus’s  masterpiece  on  the 

Grecian  stage!  But . Is  there  not,  begging  the 

pardon  of  the  great  tragedian,  too  much  reserve  in  the 
Agamemnon  for  our  modern  taste  ? If  we  could  have 
the  bath  scene  represented  on  the  stage,  and  an 
Agamemnon  who  could  be  really  killed — though  I 
would  not  insist  on  that  because  a good  actor  might 
make  it  a reason  for  refusing  the  part — but  still  the 
murder  ought  to  take  place  in  public.” 

“ Shocking!  an  outrage  on  all  the  laws  of  the  drama. 
Does  not  even  the  Roman  Horace  lay  down  as  a rule 
the — Nec  pueros  coram  populo  Medea  trucidet?” 

“ Fairest  and  wisest,  I am  as  willing  a pupil  of  the 
dear  old  Epicurean  as  any  man  living — even  to  the 
furnishing  of  my  chamber,  of  which  fact  the  Empress 
of  Africa  may  some  day  assure  herself.  But  we  are 
not  now  discussing  the  art  of  poetry,  but  the  art  of 
reigning;  and,  after  all,  while  Horace  was  sitting  in 
his  easy-chair,  giving  his  countrymen  good  advice,  a 
private  man,  who  knew  somewhat  better  than  he  what 
the  mass  admired,  was  exhibiting  forty  thousand 
gladiators  at  his  mother’s  funeral.” 

“But  the  canon  has  its  foundation  in  the  eternal 
laws  of  beauty.  It  has  been  accepted  and  observed.” 


392 


HYPATIA. 


“Not  by  the  people  for  whom  it  was  written.  The 
learned  Hypatia  has  surely  not  forgotten,  that  within 
sixty  years  after  the  Ars  Poetica  was  written,  Annaeus 
Seneca,  or  whosoever  wrote  that  very  bad  tragedy 
called  the  Medea,  found  it  so  necessary  that  she  should, 
in  despite  of  Horace,  kill  her  children  before  the  people, 
that  he  actually  made  her  do  it!” 

Hypatia  was  still  silent — foiled  at  every  point,  while 
Orestes  ran  on  with  provoking  glibness. 

“And  consider,  too,  even  if  we  dare  alter  ASschylus 
a little,  we  could  find  no  one  to  act  him.” 

“Ah,  true!  fallen,  fallen  days!” 

“And  realty,  after  all,  omitting  the  questionable 
compliment  to  me,  as  candidate  for  a certain  dignity, 
of  having  my  namesake  kill  his  mother,  and  then  be 

hunted  over  the  stage  by  furies ” 

“But  Apollo  vindicates  and  purifies  him  at  last. 
What  a noble  occasion  that  last  scene  would  give  for 
winning  them  back  to  their  old  reverence  for  the  god ! ” 
“True,  but  at  present  the  majority  of  spectators 
will  believe  more  strongly  in  the  horrors  of  matricide 
and  furies  than  in  Apollo’s  power  to  dispense  there- 
with. So  that,  I fear,  must  be  one  of  your  labors  of  the 
future.” 

“And  it  shall  be,”  said  Hypatia.  But  she  did  not 
speak  cheerfully. 

“ Do  you  not  think  moreover,”  went  on  the  tempter, 
“that  those  old  tragedies  might  give  somewhat  too 
gloomy  a notion  of  those  deities  whom  we  wish  to  re- 
introduce— I beg  pardon,  to  re-honor  ? The  history  of 
the  house  of  Atreus  is  hardly  more  cheerful,  in  spite 
of  its  beauty,  than  one  of  Cyril’s  sermons  on  the  day 
of  judgment,  and  the  Tartarus  prepared  for  hapless 
rich  people.” 

“ W ell,”  said  Hypatia,  more  and  more  listlessly ; “ it 


HYPATIA. 


393 


might  be  more  prudent  to  show  them  first  the  fairer 
and  more  graceful  side  of  the  old  Myths.  Certainly 
the  great  age  of  Athenian  tragedy  had  its  playful  re- 
verse in  the  old  comedy.” 

“And  in  certain  Dionysiac  sports  and  processions 
which  shall  be  nameless,  in  order  to  awaken  a proper 
devotion  for  the  gods  in  those  who  might  not  be  able 
to  appreciate  Aeschylus  and  Sophocles.” 

“ Y ou  would  not  re-introduce  them  ? ” 

“ Pallas  forbid ! but  give  as  fair  a substitute  for  them 
as  we  can.” 

“And  we  are  to  degrade  ourselves  because  the  masses 
are  degraded  ? ” 

“Not  in  the  least.  For  my  own  part,  this  whole 
business,  like  the  catering  for  the  weekly  pantomimes, 
is  as  great  a bore  to  me  as  it  could  have  been  to  Julian 
himself.  But,  my  dearest  madam — ‘ Panem  and  Cim 
censes  * — they  must  be  put  in  good  humor,  and  there  is 
but  one  way — by  ‘ the  lust  of  the  flesh,  and  the  lust  of 
the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life/  as  a certain  Galilsean 
correctly  defined  the  time-honored  Roman  method.” 
“Put  them  into  good  humor?  I wish  to  lustrate 
them  afresh  for  the  service  to  the  gods.  If  we  must 
have  comic  representations,  we  can  only  have  them 
conjoined  to  tragedy,  which,  as  Aristotle  defines  it, 
will  purify  their  affections  by  pity  and  terror.” 

Orestes  smiled. 

“ I certainly  can  have  no  objection  to  so  good  a pur- 
pose. But  do  you  not  think  that  the  battle  between 
the  gladiators  and  the  Libyans  will  have  done  that 
sufficiently  beforehand  ? I can  conceive  nothing  more 
fit  for  that  end,  unless  it  be  Nero’s  method  of  sending 
his  guards  among  the  spectators  themselves,  and 
throwing  them  down  to  the  wild  beasts  in  the  arena. 
How  thoroughly  purified  by  pity  and  terror  must 


394 


HYPATIA. 


every  worthy  shopkeeper  have  been,  when  he  sat  un- 
certain whether  he  might  not  follow  his  fat  wife  into 
the  claws  of  the  nearest  lion  ? 99 

“You  are  pleased  to  be  witty,  sir,”  said  Hypatia, 
hardly  able  to  conceal  her  disgust. 

"My  dearest  bride  elect,  I only  meant  the  most 
harmless  of  reductiones  ad  absurdurn  of  an  abstract 
canon  of  Aristotle,  with  which  I,  who  am  a Plato  nist 
after  my  mistress’s  model,  do  not  happen  to  agree. 
But  do,  I beseech  you,  be  ruled,  not  by  me,  but  by 
your  own  wisdom.  You  cannot  bring  the  people  to 
appreciate  your  designs  at  the  first  sight.  You  are 
too  wise,  too  pure,  too  lofty,  too  farsighted  for  them. 
And  therefore  you  must  get  power  to  compel  them. 
Julian,  after  all,  found  it  necessary  to  compel — if  he 
had  lived  seven  years  more  he  would  have  found  it 
necessary  to  persecute.” 

“ The  gods  forbid  that — that  such  a necessity  should 
ever  arise  here,” 

" The  only  way  to  avoid  it,  believe  me,  is  to  allure 
and  to  indulge.  After  all,  it  is  for  their  good.” 

" True,”  sighed  Hypatia.  " Have  your  way,  sir.” 
"Believe  me,  you  shall  have  yours  in  turn.  I ask 
you  to  be  ruled  by  me  now,  only  that  you  may  be  in  a 
position  to  rule  me  and  Africa  hereafter.” 

"And  such  an  Africa!  Well  if  they  are  born  low 
and  earthly,  they  must,  I suppose,  be  treated  as  such; 
and  the  fault-  of  such  a necessity  is  Nature’s,  and  not 
ours.  Yet  it  is  most  degrading!  But  still,  if  the  only 
method  by  which  the  philosophic  few  can  assume  their 
rights,  as  the  divinely-appointed  rulers  of  the  world, 
is  by  indulging  those  lower  beings  whom  they  govern 
for  their  good — why  be  it  so.  It  is  no  worse  necessity 
than  many  another  which  the  servant  of  the  gods 
must  endure  in  days  like  these.” 


HYPATIA. 


395 


“Ah,”  said  Orestes,  refusing  to  hear  the  sigh,  or  to 
see  the  bitterness  of  the  lip  which  accompanied  the 
speech,  “now  Hypatia  is  herself  again;  and  my  coun- 
sellor and  giver  of  deep  and  celestial  reasons  for  all 
things  at  which  poor  I can  only  snatch  and  guess  by 
vulpine  cunning.  So  now  for  our  lighter  entertain- 
ment. What  shall  it  be  ?” 

“ What  you  will,  provided  it  be  not,  as  most  such 
are,  unfit  for  the  eyes  of  modest  women.  I have  no 
skill  in  catering  for  folly.” 

“A  pantomime,  then  ? We  may  make  that  as  grand 
and  as  significant  as  we  will,  and  expend  too  on  it  all 
our  treasures  in  the  way  of  gewgaws  and  wild  beasts.” 

“As  you  like.” 

“Just  consider,  too,  what  a scope  for  mythologic 
learning  a pantomime  affords.  Why  not  have  a tri- 
umph of  some  deity  ? Could  I commit  myself  more 
boldly  to  the  service  of  the  gods  ? How — who  shall 
it  be  ? ” 

“Pallas — unless,  as  I suppose,  she  is  too  modest 
and  too  sober  for  your  Alexandrians.” 

“Yes — it  does  not  seem  to  me  that  she  would  be 
appreciated — at  all  events  for  the  present.  Why  not 
try  Aphrodite  ? Christians  as  well  as  Pagans  will 
thoroughly  understand  her;  and  I know  no  one  who 
would  not  degrade  the  virgin  goddess  by  representing 
her,  except  a certain  lady,  who  has  already,  I hope, 
consented  to  sit  in  that  very  character,  by  the  side  of 
her  too  much  honored  slave;  and  one  Pallas  is  enough 
at  a time  in  any  theatre.” 

Hypatia  shuddered.  He  took  it  all  for  granted, 
then — and  claimed  her  conditional  promise  to  the  ut- 
termost. Was  there  no  escape  ? She  longed  to  spring 
up  and  rush  away,  into  the  streets,  into  the  desert — 
anything  to  break  the  hideous  net  which  she  had 


396 


HYPATIA. 


wound  around  herself.  And  yet — was  it  not  the  cause 
of  the  gods — the  one  object  of  her  life  ? And  after  all, 
if  he,  the  hateful,  was  to  be  her  emperor,  she  at  least 
was  to  be  an  empress:  and  do  what  she  would— and 
half  in  irony,  and  half  in  the  attempt  to  hurl  herself 
perforce  into  that  which  she  knew  that  she  must  go 
through,  and  forget  misery  in  activity,  she  answered 
as  cheerfully  as  she  could — 

“ Then,  my  goddess,  thou  must  wait  the  pleasure  of 
these  base  ones!  At  least  the  young  Apollo  will  have 
charms  even  for  them.” 

“Ay,  but  who  will  represent  him  ? This  puny  gen- 
eration does  not  produce  such  figures  as  Py lades  and 
Bathyllus  — except  among  those  Goths.  Besides, 
Apollo  must  have  golden  hair;  and  our  Greek  race 
has  intermixed  itself  so  shamefully  with  these  Egyp- 
tians, that  our  stage-troop  is  as  dark  as  Andromeda, 
and  we  should  have  to  apply  again  to  those  accursed 
Goths,  who  have  nearly  ” (with  a bow)  “ all  the  beauty, 
and  nearly  all  the  money  and  the  power,  and  will,  I 
suspect,  have  the  rest  of  it  before  I am  safe  out  of  this 
wicked  world,  because  they  have  not  nearly,  but  quite, 
all  the  courage.  Now — shall  we  ask  a Goth  to  dance 
Apollo  ? for  we  can  get  no  one  else.” 

Hypatia  smiled  in  spite  of  herself  at  the  notion. 
“That  would  be  too  shameful!  I must  forego  the  god 
of  light  himself,  if  I am  to  see  him  in  the  person  of  a 
clumsy  barbarian.” 

“ Then  why  not  try  my  despised  and  rejected  Aphro- 
dite ? Suppose  we  had  her  triumph,  finishing  with  a 
dance  of  Venus  Anadyomene.  Surely  that  is  a grace- 
ful myth  enough.” 

“As  a myth;  but  on  the  stage  m reality  ? ” 

“Not  worse  than  what  this  Christian  city  has  been 
looking  at  for  many  a year.  We  shall  not  run  any  dan- 
ger of  rorrupting  morality,  be  sure.” 


HYPATIA. 


397 


Hypatia  blushed. 

“ Then  you  must  not  ask  for  my  help.” 

“Or  for  your  presence  at  the  spectacle?  For  that 
be  sure  is  a necessary  point.  You  are  too  great  a 
person,  my  dearest  madam,  in  the  eyes  of  these  good 
folks  to  be  allowed  to  absent  yourself  on  such  an  occa- 
sion. If  my  little  stratagem  succeeds,  it  will  be  half 
owing  to  the  fact  of  the  people  knowing  that  in  crown- 
ing me,  they  crown  Hypatia.  . . . Come  now — do  you 
not  see  that  as  you  must  needs  be  present  at  their 
harmless  scrap  of  mythology,  taken  from  the  authen- 
tic and  undoubted  histories  of  those  very  gods  whose 
worship  we  intend  to  restore,  you  will  consult  your 
own  comfort  most  in  agreeing  to  it  cheerfully,  and  in 
lending  me  your  wisdom  toward  arranging  it  ? Just 
conceive  now,  a triumph  of  Aphrodite  entering,  pre- 
ceded by  wild  beasts  led  in  chains  by  Cupids,  the  white 
elephant  and  all — what  a field  for  the  plastic  art ! You 
might  have  a thousand  groupings,  dispersions,  re- 
groupings, in  as  perfect  bas-relief  style  as  those  of  any 
Sophoclean  drama.  Allow  me  only  to  take  this  paper 
and  pen ” 

And  he  began  sketching  rapidly  group  after  group. 

“ Hot  so  ugly,  surely  ? ” 

“They  are  very  beautiful,  I cannot  deny,”  said  poor 
Hypatia. 

“Ah,  sweet  Empress!  you  forget  sometimes  that  I, 
too,  world-worm  as  I am,  am  a Greek,  with  as  intense  a 
love  of  the  beautiful  as  even  you  yourself  have.  Do 
not  fancy  that  every  violation  of  good  taste  does  not 
torture  me  as  keenly  as  it  does  you.  Some  day,  I 
hope,  you  will  have  learned  to  pity  and  excuse  the 
wretched  compromise  between  that  which  ought  to  be 
and  that  which  can  be,  in  which  we  hapless  statesmen 
must  struggle  on,  half  stunned  and  wholly  misunder- 


398 


HYPATIA. 


stood.  Ah,  well!  Look,  now,  at  these  fauns  and 
dryads  among*  the  shrubs  upon  the  stage,  pausing  in 
startled  wonder  at  the  first  blast  of  music  which  pro- 
claims the  exit  of  the  goddess  from  her  temple.” 

“The  temple?  Why,  where  are  you  going  to  ex- 
hibit ? ” 

“ In  the  Theatre,  of  course.  Where  else  panto- 
mimes ? ” 

“ But  will  the  spectators  have  time  to  move  all  the 

way  from  the  Amphitheatre  after — that  —those ? ” 

“The  Amphitheatre?  We  shall  exhibit  the  Lib- 
yans, too,  in  the  Theatre.” 

“ Combats  in  the  Theatre  sacred  to  Dionusos  ? ” 
“My  dear  lady” — penitently — “I  know  it  is  an  of- 
fence against  all  the  laws  of  the  drama.” 

“Oh,  worse  than  that!  Consider  what  an  impiety 
toward  the  god,  to  desecrate  his  altar  with  bloodshed  ! ” 
“ Fairest  devotee,  recollect  that,  after  all,  I may 
fairly  borrow  Dionusos’  altar  in  this  my  extreme  need ; 
for  I saved  its  very  existence  for  him,  by  preventing 
the  magistrates  from  filling  up  the  whole  orchestra 
with  benches  for  the  patricians,  after  the  barbarous 
Roman  fashion.  And  besides,  what  possible  sort  of 
representation  or  misrepresentation,  has  not  been  ex- 
hibited in  every  theatre  of  the  empire  for  the  last  four 
hundred  years  ? Have  we  not  had  tumblers,  conjurers, 
allegories,  martyrdoms,  marriages,  elephants  on  the 
tiglit-rope,  learned  horses,  and  learned  asses  too,  if  we 
may  trust  Apuleius  of  Madaura;  with  a good  many 
other  spectacles  of  which  we  must  not  speak  in  the 
presence  of  a vestal  ? It  is  an  age  of  execrable  taste, 
and  we  must  act  accordingly.” 

“Ah!”  answered  Hypatia;  “the  first  step  in  the 
downward  career  of  the  drama  began  when  the  suc- 
cessors of  Alexander  dared  to  profane  theatres  which 


HYPATIA. 


399 


had  re-echoed  the  choruses  of  Sophocles  and  Euripides 
by  degrading-  the  altar  of  Dionusos  into  a stage  for 
pantomimes ! ” 

“ Which  your  pure  mind  must,  doubtless,  consider 
not  so  very  much  better  than  a little  fighting.  But, 
after  all,  the  Ptolomies  could  not  do  otherwise.  You 
can  only  have  Soplioclean  dramas  in  a Sophoclean 
age;  and  theirs  was  no  more  of  one  than  ours  is,  and 
so  the  drama  died  a natural  death;  and  when  that 
happens  to  man  or  thing,  you  may  weep  over  it  if  you 
will,  but  you  must,  after  all,  bury  it,  and  get  some- 
thing else  in  its  place — except,  of  course,  the  worship 
of  the  gods.” 

"I  am  glad  that  you  except  that,  at  least,”  said 
Hypatia,  somewhat  bitterly.  “ But  why  not  use  the 
Amphitheatre  for  both  spectacles  ? ” 

“ What  can  I do  ? I am  over  head  and  ears  in  debt 
already;  and  the  Amphitheatre  is  half  in  ruins,  thanks 
to  that  fanatic  edict  of  the  late  emperor’s  against 
gladiators.  There  is  no  time  or  money  for  repairing 
it;  and  besides,  how  pitiful  a poor  hundred  of  com- 
batants will  look  in  an  arena  built  to  hold  two  thou- 
sand! Consider,  my  dearest  lady,  in  what  fallen 
times  we  live ! ” 

“I  do  indeed!”  said  Hypatia.  “But  I will  not  see 
the  altar  polluted  by  blood.  It  is  the  desecration 
which  it  has  undergone  already  which  has  provoked 
the  god  to  withdraw  the  poetic  inspiration.” 

“ I do  not  doubt  the  fact.  Some  curse  from  Heaven 
certainly  has  fallen  on  our  poets,  to  judge  by  their  ex- 
ceeding badness.  Indeed,  I am  inclined  to  attribute 
the  insane  vagaries  of  the  water-drinking  monks  and 
nuns,  like  those  of  the  Argive  women,  to  the  same 
celestial  anger.  But  I will  see  that  the  sanctity  of  the 
altar  is  preserved,  by  confining  the  combat  to  the 


400 


HYPATIA. 


stage.  And  as  for  tlie  pantomime  which  will  follow, 
if  you  would  only  fall  in  with  my  fancy  of  the  triumph 
of  Aphrodite,  Dionusos  would  hardly  refuse  his  altar 
for  the  glorification  of  his  own  lady-love.” 

“Ah — that  myth  is  a late  and  in  my  opinion  a de- 
graded one.” 

“Be  it  so:  but  recollect,  that  another  myth  makes 
her,  and  not  without  reason,  the  mother  of  ail  living 
beings.  Be  sure  that  Dionusos  will  have  no  objection, 
or  any  other  god  either,  to  allow  her  to  make  her  chil- 
dren feel  her  conquering  might;  for  they  all  know  well 
enough,  that  if  we  can  once  get  her  well  worshipped 
here,  all  Olympus  will  follow  in  her  train.” 

“ That  was  spoken  of  the  celestial  Aphrodite,  whose 
symbol  is  the  tortoise,  the  emblem  of  domestic  modesty 
and  chastitj^ : not  of  that  baser  Pandomic  one.” 

“ Then  we  will  take  care  to  make  the  people  aware 
of  whom  they  are  admiring  by  exhibiting  in  the  tri- 
umph whole  legions  of  tortoises;  and  you  yourself 
shall  write  the  chant,  while  I will  see  that  the  chorus 
is  worthy  of  what  It  has  to  sing.  No  mere  squeaking 
double  flute  and  a pair  of  boys : but  a whole  army  of 
Cyclops  and  graces,  with  such  trebles  and  such  bass- 
voices!  It  shall  make  Cyril's  ears  tingle  in  his 
palace ! ” 

“ The  chant ! A noble  office  for  me,  truly ! That  is 
the  very  part  of  the  absurd  spectacle  to  which  you 
used  to  say  the  people  never  dreamed  of  attending. 
All  which  is  worth  settling  you  seem  to  have  settled 
for  yourself  before  you  deigned  to  consult  me.” 

“ I said  so  ? Surely  you  must  mistake.  But  if  any 
hired  poetaster’s  chant  do  pass  unheeded,  what  has 
that  to  do  with  Hypatia’s  eloquence  and  science, 
glowing  with  the  treble  inspiration  of  Athene,  Phoebus, 
and  Dionusos?  And  as  for  having  arranged  before- 


HYPATIA. 


401 


hand,  my  adorable  mistress,  what  more  delicate  com- 
pliment could  I have  paid  you  ?” 

“ I cannot  say  that  it  seems  to  me  to  be  one.” 

“ How  ? After  saving*  you  every  trouble  which  I 
could,  and  racking  my  overburdened  wits  for  stage- 
effects  and  properties,  have  I not  brought  hither  the 
darling  children  of  my  own  brain,  and  laid  them  down 
ruthlessly,  for  life  or  death,  before  the  judgment  seat 
of  your  lofty  and  unsparing  criticism  ? ” 

Hypatia  felt  herself  tricked;  but  there  was  no  es- 
cape now. 

“And  who,  pray,  is  to  disgrace  herself,  and  me,  as 
Venus  Anadyomene  ?” 

“Ah ! that  is  the  most  exquisite  article  in  all  my  bill 
of  fare!  What  if  the  kind  gods  have  enabled  me  to 
exact  a promise  from — whom,  think  you  ? ” 

“ What  care  I ? How  can  I tell  ? ” asked  Hypatia, 
who  suspected  and  dreaded  that  she  could  tell. 

“ Pelagia  herself ! ” 

Hypatia  rose  angrily. 

“ This,  sir,  at  least,  is  too  much ! It  was  not  enough 
for  you,  it  seems,  to  claim,  or  rather  to  take  for  granted, 
so  imperiously,  so  mercilessly,  a conditional  promise — 
weakly,  weakly  made,  in  the  vain  hope  that  you  would 
help  forward  aspirations  of  mine  which  you  have  let 
lie  fallow  for  months — in  which  I do  not  believe  that 
you  sympathize  now ! It  was  not  enough  for  you  to 
declare  yourself  publicly  yesterday  a Christian,  and  to 
come  hither  this  morning  to  flatter  me  into  the  belief 
that  you  will  dare,  ten  days  hence,  to  restore  the  wor- 
ship of  the  gods  whom  you  have  abjured ! It  was  not 
enough  to  plan  without  me  all  those  movements  in 
which  you  told  me  I was  to  be  your  fellow-counsellor 
— the  very  condition  which  you  yourself  offered!  It 
was  not  enough  for  you  to  command  me  to  sit  in  that. 

26 


402 


HYPATIA. 


theatre,  as  your  bait,  your  puppet,  your  victim,  blush- 
ing and  shuddering  at  sights  unfit  for  the  eyes  of  god 
and  men; — but  over  and  above  all  this,  I must  assist 
in  the  renewed  triumph  of  a woman  who  has  laughed 
down  my  teaching,  seduced  away  my  scholars,  braved 
me  in  my  very  lecture-room — who  for  four  years  has 
done  more  than  even  Cyril  himself  to  destroy  all  the 
virtue  and  truth  which  I have  toiled  to  sow— and 
toiled  in  vain ! Oh,  beloved  gods ! where  will  end  the 
tortures  through  which  your  martyr  must  witness  for 
you  to  a fallen  race  ? '' 

And,  in  spite  of  all  her  pride,  and  of  Orestes'  pres- 
ence, her  eyes  filled  with  scalding  tears. 

Orestes'  eyes  had  sunk  before  the  vehemence  of  her 
just  passion : but  as  she  added  the  last  sentence  in  a 
softer  and  sadder  tone,  he  raised  them  again,  with  a 
look  of  sorrow  and  entreaty,  as  his  heart  whispered — 

“ Fool!  fanatic!  But  she  is  too  beautiful!  Win  her 
I must  and  will ! " 

“Ah ! dearest,  noblest  Hypatia ! what  have  I done  ? 
Unthinking  fool  that  I was!  In  the  wish  to  save  you 
trouble — in  the  hope  that  I could  show  you  by  the  apt- 
ness of  my  own  plans,  that  my  practical  statesman- 
ship was  not  altogether  an  unworthy  helpmate  for 
vour  loftier  wisdom — wretch  that  I am,  I have  offended 
you ; and  I have  ruined  the  cause  of  those  very  gods 
for  whom,  I swear,  I am  as  ready  to  sacrifice  myself  as 
ever  you  can  be ! " 

The  last  sentence  had  the  effect  which  it  was  meant 
to  have. 

“ Ruined  the  cause  of  the  gods  ? " asked  she  in  a 
startled  tone. 

“ Is  it  not  ruined  without  your  help  ? And  what 
am  I to  understand  from  your  words  but  that — help- 
less man  that  I am ! you  leave  me,  and  them,  hence- 
forth to  our  own  unassisted  strength  ? " 


HYPATIA. 


403 


“The  unassisted  strength  of  the  gods  is  omnipo- 
tence.” 

“Be  it  so.  But— why  is  Cyril  and  not  Hypatia, 
master  of  the  masses  of  Alexandria  this  day  ? Why 
but  because  he  and  his  have  fought,  and  suffered,  and 
died  too,  many  a hundred  of  them,  for  their  god,  om- 
nipotent as  they  believed  him  to  be  ? Why  are  the 
old  gods  forgotten,  my  fairest  logician  ? — for  forgotten 
they  are.” 

Hypatia  trembled  from  head  to  foot,  and  Orestes 
went  on  more  blandly  than  ever. 

“ I will  not  ask  an  answer  to  that  question  of  mine. 
All  I entreat  is  forgiveness  for — what  for  I know  not: 
but  I have  sinned  and  that  is  enough  for  me.  What 
if  I have  been  too  confident— too  hasty  ? Are  you  not 
the  prize  for  which  I strain  ? and  will  not  the  precious- 
ness of  the  victor’s  wreath  excuse  some  impatience  in 
his  struggle  for  it  ? Hypatia  has  forgotten  who  and 
what  the  gods  have  made  her — she  has  not  even  con- 
sulted her  own  mirror,  when  she  blames  one  of  her  in- 
numerable adorers  for  a forwardness  which  ought  to 
be  rather  imputed  to  him  as  a virtue ! ” 

And  Orestes  stole  meekly  such  a glance  of  adora- 
tion, that  Hypatia  blushed,  and  turned  her  face  away. 

. . . After  all,  she  was  a woman.  . . . And  she  was  a 
fanatic.  . . . And  she  was  to  be  an  empress.  . . . And 
Orestes’  voice  was  as  melodious,  and  his  manner  as 
graceful,  as  ever  charmed  the  heart  of  woman. 

“ But  Pelagia  ? ” she  said,  at  last,  recovering  herself. 

“Would  that  I had  never  seen  the  creature!  But, 
after  all,  I really  fancied  that  in  doing  what  I have 
done  I should  gratify  you.” 

“ Me  ? ” 

“Surely  if  revenge  be  sweet,  as  they  say,  it  could 
hardly  find  a more  delicate  satisfaction  than  in  the 
degradation  of  one  who ” 


404 


HYPATIA. 


“ Revenge,  sir  ? Do  you  dream  that  I am  capable 
of  so  base  a passion  ? ” 

“ I ? Pallas  forbid ! ” said  Orestes,  finding  himself  on 
the  wrong  path  again.  “But  recollect  that  the  allow- 
ing this  spectacle  to  take  place  might  rid  you  forever 
of  an  unpleasant — I will  not  say  rival.” 

“ How,  then  ? ” 

“Will  not  her  reappearance  on  the  stage,  after  all 
her  proud  professions  of  contempt  for  it,  do  something 
toward  reducing  her  in  the  eyes  of  this  scandalous 
little  town  to  her  true  and  native  level?  She  will 
hardly  dare  thenceforth  to  go  about  parading  herself 
as  the  consort  of  a god-descended  hero,  or  thrusting 
herself  unbidden  into  Hypatia’s  presence,  as  if  she 
were  the  daughter  of  a consul.” 

“ But  I cannot — I cannot  allow  it  even  to  her.  After 
all,  Orestes,  she  is  a woman.  And  can  I,  philosopher 
as  I am,  help  to  degrade  her  even  one  step  lower  than 
she  lies  already  ? ” 

Hypatia  had  all  but  said  “ a woman  even  as  I am ; ” 
but  Neo-Platonic  philosophy  taught  her  better;  and 
she  checked  the  hasty  assertion  of  anything  like  a 
common  sex  or  common  humanity  between  two  beings 
so  antipodal. 

“Ah,”  rejoined  Orestes,  “ that  unlucky  word  de- 
grade! Unthinking  that  I was,  to  use  it,  forgetting 
that  she  herself  will  be  no  more  degraded  in  her  own 
eyes,  or  any  one’s  else,  by  hearing  again  the  plaudits 
of  those  ‘ dear  Macedonians,’  on  whose  breath  she  has 
lived  for  years,  than  a peacock  when  he  displays  his 
train.  Unbounded  vanity  and  self-conceit  are  not  un- 
pleasant passions,  after  all,  for  their  victim.  After 
all,  she  is  what  she  is,  being  so  is  no  fault  of  yours. 
Oh ! Oh,  it  must  be ! indeed  it  must ! ” 

Poor  Hypatia ! The  bait  was  too  delicate,  the 


HYPATIA. 


405 


tempter  too  wily ; and  yet  she  was  ashamed  to  speak 
aloud  the  philosophic  dogma  which  flashed  a ray  of 
comfort  and  resignation  through  her  mind,  and  re- 
minded her  that  after  all  there  was  no  harm  in  allow- 
ing lower  natures  to  develop  themselves  freely  in  that 
direction  which  Nature  had  appointed  for  them,  and 
in  which  only  they  could  fulfil  the  laws  of  their  being, 
as  necessary  varieties  in  the  manifold  whole  of  the 
universe.  So  she  cut  the  interview  short  with — 

“ If  it  must  be,  then.  ...  I will  now  retire,  and  write 
the  ode.  Only,  I refuse  to  have  any  communication 
whatsoever  with — I am  ashamed  of  even  mentioning 
her  name.  I will  send  the  ode  to  you,  and  she  must 
adapt  her  dance  to  it  as  best  she  can.  By  her  taste, 
or  fancy  rather,  I will  not  be  ruled.” 

“And  I,”  said  Orestes,  with  a profusion  of  thanks, 
“will  retire  to  rack  my  faculties  over  the  f disposi- 
tions/ On  this  day  week  we  exhibit — and  conquer! 
Farewell,  queen  of  wisdom!  Your  philosophy  never 
shows  to  better  advantage  than  when  you  thus  wisely 
and  gracefully  subordinate  that  which  is  beautiful  in 
itself  to  that  which  is  beautiful  relatively  and  prac- 
tically.” 

He  departed;  and  Hypatia,  half  dreading  her  own 
thoughts,  sat  down  at  once  to  labor  at  the  ode.  Cer- 
tainly it  was  a magnificent  subject.  What  etymolo- 
gies, cosmogonies,  allegories,  myths,  symbolisms  be- 
tween all  heaven  and  earth,  might  she  not  introduce — 
if  she  could  but  banish  that  figure  of  Pelagia  dancing 
to  it  all,  which  would  not  be  banished,  but  hovered, 
like  a spectre,  in  the  background  of  all  her  imagina- 
tions. She  became  quite  angry,  first  with  Pelagia, 
then  with  herself,  for  being  weak  enough  to  think  of 
her.  Was  it  not  positive  defilement  of  her  mind  to  be 
haunted  by  the  image  of  so  defiled  a being?  She 


406 


HYPATIA. 


would  purify  her  thoughts  by  prayer  and  meditation. 
But  to  whom  of  all  the  gods  should  she  address  her- 
self ? To  her  chosen  favorite,  Athene  ? She  who  had 
promised  to  be  present  at  that  spectacle?  Oh,  how 
weak  she  had  been  to  yield ! And  yet  she  had  been 
snared  into  it.  Snared — there  is  no  doubt  of  it — by 
the  very  man  whom  she  had  fancied  that  she  could 
guide  and  mould  to  her  own  purposes.  He  had  guided 
and  moulded  her  now  against  her  self-respect,  her  com- 
passion, her  innate  sense  of  right.  Already  she  was 
his  tool.  True,  she  had  submitted  to  be  so  for  a great 
purpose.  But  suppose  she  had  to  submit  again  here- 
after— always  henceforth?  And  what  made  the 
thought  more  poignant  was,  her  knowledge  that  he 
was  right;  that  he  knew  what  to  do,  and  how  to  do  it. 
She  could  not  help  admiring  him  for  his  address,  his 
quickness,  his  clear  practical  insight;  and  yet  she  de- 
spised, mistrusted,  all  but  hated  him.  But  what  if  his 
were  the  very  qualities  which  were  destined  to  suc- 
ceed ? What  if  her  purer  and  loftier  aims,  her  resolu- 
tions— now,  alas!  broken — never  to  act  but  on  the 
deepest  and  holiest  principles  and  by  the  most  sacred 
means,  and  destined  never  to  exert  themselves  in 
practice,  except  conjointly  with  miserable  stratagems 
and  cajoleries  such  as  these  ? What  if  statecraft,  and 
not  philosophy  and  religion,  were  the  appointed  rulers 
of  mankind  ? Hideous  thought ! And  yet — she  who 
had  all  her  life  tried  to  be  self-dependent,  originative, 
to  face  and  crush  the  hostile  mob  of  circumstances 
and  custom,  and  do  battle  single-handed  with  Chris- 
tianity and  a fallen  age — how  was  it  that  in  her  first 
important  and  critical  opportunity  of  action  she  had 
been  dumb,  irresolute,  passive,  the  victim  of  the  very 
corruption  which  she  was  to  exterminate  ? She  did 
not  know  that  those  who  have  no  other  means  for  re- 


HYPATIA. 


407 


generating  a corrupted  time  than  dogmatic  pedantries 
concerning  the  dead  and  unreturning  past,  must  end,  in 
practice,  by  borrowing  insincerely,  and  using  clumsily, 
the  very  weapons  of  that  novel  age  which  they  depre- 
cate, and  “ sewing  new  cloth  into  old  garments/’  till 
the  rent  becomes  patent  and  incurable.  But  in  the 
mean  while,  such  meditations  as  these  drove  from  her 
mind  for  that  day  both  Athene,  and  the  ode,  and  phi- 
losophy, and  all  things  but — Pelagia  the  wanton. 

In  the  mean  while,  Alexandrian  politics  flowed  on- 
ward in  their  usual  pure  and  quiet  course.  The  public 
buildings  were  placarded  with  the  news  of  Heraclian’s 
victory ; and  groups  of  loungers  expressed,  loudly 
enough,  their  utter  indifference  as  to  who  might  rule 
at  Rome — or  even  at  Byzantium.  Let  Heraclian  or 
Honorius  be  emperor,  the  capitals  must  be  fed ; and 
while  the  Alexandrian  wheat  trade  was  uninjured, 
what  matter  who  received  the  tribute  ? Certainly,  as 
some  friends  of  Orestes  found  means  to  suggest,  it 
might  not  be  a bad  thing  for  Egypt,  if  she  could  keep 
the  tribute  in  her  own  treasury,  instead  of  sending  it 
to  Rome,  without  any  adequate  return,  save  the  pres- 
ence of  an  expensive  army.  . . . Alexandria  had  been 
once  the  metropolis  of  an  independent  empire.  . . . 
Why  not  again  ? Then  came  enormous  largesses  of 
corn,  proving,  more  satisfactorily  to  the  mob  than  to 
the  shipowners,  that  Egyptian  wheat  was  better  em- 
ployed at  home  than  abroad.  Nay,  there  were  even 
rumors  of  a general  amnesty  for  all  prisoners  ; and  as, 
of  course,  every  evil-doer  had  a kind  of  friend,  who 
considered  him  an  injured  martyr,  all  parties  were 
well  content,  on  their  own  account  at  least,  with  such 
a move. 

And  so  Orestes’  bubble  swelled,  and  grew,  and  glit- 
tered every  day  with  fresh  prismatic  radiance;  while 


408 


HYPATIA. 


Hypatia  sat  at  home  with  a heavy  heart,  writing  her 
ode  to  Venus  Urania,  and  submitting  to  Orestes'  daily 
visits. 

One  cloud,  indeed,  not  without  squalls  of  wind  and 
rain,  disfigured  that  sky  which  the  prefect  had  invested 
with  such  serenity  by  the  simple  expedient,  well  known 
to  politicians,  of  painting  it  bright  blue,  since  it  would 
not  assume  that  color  of  its  own  accord.  For,  a day 
or  two  after  Ammonius's  execution,  the  prefect's 
guards  informed  him  that  the  corpse  of  the  crucified 
man,  with  the  cross  on  which  it  hung,  had  vanished. 
The  Nitrian  monks  had  come  down  in  a body  and 
carried  them  off  before  the  very  eyes  of  the  sentinels. 
Orestes  knew  well  enough  that  the  fellows  must  have 
been  bribed  to  allow  the  theft;  but  he  dare  not  say  so 
to  men  on  whose  good  humor  his  very  life  might  de- 
pend : so  stomaching  the  affront  as  best  he  could,  he 
vowed  fresh  vengeance  against  Cyril,  and  went  on  his 
way.  But,  behold!  within  four-and-twenty  hours  of 
the  theft,  a procession  of  all  the  rascality,  followed  by 
all  the  piety  of  Alexandria — monks  from  Nitria  counted 
by  the  thousand — priests,  deacons,  archdeacons,  Cyril 
himself,  in  full  pontificals,  and,  borne  aloft  in  the  midst, 
upon  a splendid  bier,  the  missing  corpse,  its  nail-pierced 
hands  and  feet  left  uncovered  for  the  pitying  gaze  of 
the  Church. 

Under  the  very  palace  windows,  from  which  Orestes 
found  it  expedient  to  retire  for  the  time  being,  out 
upon  the  quays,  and  up  the  steps  of  the  Csesareum, 
defiled  that  new  portent;  and  in  another  half-hour,  a 
servant  entered,  breathlessly,  to  inform  the  shepherd 
of  the  people,  that  his  victim  was  lying  in  state  in  the 
centre  of  the  nave,  a martyr  duly  canonized — Am- 
monius  now  no  more,  but  henceforth  Thaumasius  the 
wonderful,  on  whose  heroic  virtues  and  more  heroic 


HYPATIA. 


409 


faithfulness  unto  the  death,  Cyril  was  already  descant- 
ing- from  the  pulpit,  amid  thunders  of  applause  at  every 
allusion  to  Sisera  at  the  brook  Kishon,  Sennacherib  in 
the  house  of  Nisroch,  and  the  rest  of  the  princes  of  this 
world  who  come  to  naught. 

Here  was  a storm ! To  order  a cohort  to  enter  the 
church  and  bring  away  the  body,  was  easy  enough : to 
make  them  do  it,  in  the  face  of  certain  death,  was  not 
so  easy.  Besides,  it  was  too  early  yet  for  so  desperate 
a move  as  would  be  involved  in  the  violation  of  the 
church.  ...  So  Orestes  added  this  fresh  item  to  the 
long  column  of  accounts  which  he  intended  to  settle 
with  the  patriarch  ; cursed  for  half  an  hour  in  the 
name  of  all  divinities,  saints  and  martyrs,  Christian 
and  Pagan;  and  wrote  off  a lamentable  history  of  his 
wrongs  and  sufferings  to  the  very  Byzantine  court 
against  which  he  was  about  to  rebel,  in  the  comfort- 
able assurance  that  Cyril  had  sent,  by  the  same  post, 
a counterstatement,  contradicting  it  in  every  particu- 
lar. . . . Never  mind.  ...  In  case  he  failed  in  rebel- 
ling, it  was  as  well  to  be  able  to  prove  his  allegiance  up 
to  the  latest  possible  date;  and  the  more  completely 
the  two  statements  contradicted  each  other,  the  longer 
it  would  take  to  sift  the  truth  out  of  them ; and  thus 
so  much  time  was  gained,  and  so  much  the  more 
chance,  meantime,  of  a new  leaf  being  turned  over  in 
that  Sibylline  oracle  of  politicians — the  Chapter  of 
Accidents.  And,  for  the  time  being,  he  would  make  a 
pathetic  appeal  to  respectability  and  moderation  in 
general,  of  which  Alexandria,  wherein  some  hundred 
thousand  tradesmen  and  merchants  had  property  to 
lose,  possessed  a goodly  share. 

Respectability  responded  promptly  to  the  appeal; 
and  loyal  addresses  and  deputations  of  condolence 
flowed  in  from  every  quarter,  expressing  the  extreme 


410 


HYPATIA. 


sorrow  with  which  the  citizens  had  beheld  the  late 
disturbances  of  civil  order,  and  the  contempt  which 
had  been  so  unfortunately  evinced  for  the  constituted 
authorities : but . taking:,  nevertheless,  the  liberty  to 
remark,  that  while  the  extreme  danger  to  property 
which  might  ensue  from  the  future  exasperation  of 
certain  classes,  prevented  their  taking  those  active 
steps  on  the  side  of  tranquillity  to  which  their  feelings 
inclined  them,  the  known  piety  and  wisdom  of  their 
esteemed  patriarch  made  it  presumptuous  in  them  to 
offer  any  opinion  on  the  present  conduct,  beyond  the 
expression  of  their  firm  belief  that  he  had  been  unfor- 
tunately misinformed  as  to  those  sentiments  of  affec- 
tion and  respect  which  his  excellency,  the  prefect,  was 
well  known  to  entertain  toward  him.  They  ventured, 
therefore,  to  express  h humble  hope  that,  by  some 
mutual  compromise,  to  define  which  would  be  an  un- 
warrantable intrusion  on  their  part,  a happy  reconcili- 
ation would  be  effected,  and  the  stability  of  law,  prop- 
erty, and  the  Catholic  faith,  insured.  , . . All  which 
Orestes  heard  with  blandest  smiles,  while  his  heart  was 
black  with  curses  and  C}rril  answered  by  a very  vio- 
lent though  a very  true  and  practical  harangue  on  the 
text,  “ How  hardly  shall  they  that  have  riches  enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.” 

So  respectability  and  moderation  met  with  its  usual 
hapless  fate,  and,  soundly  cursed  by  both  parties,  in 
the  vain  attempt  to  please  both,  wisely  left  the  upper 
powers  to  settle  their  own  affairs,  and  went  home  to 
their  desks  and  counters,  and  did  a very  brisk  business 
all  that  week  on  the  strength  of  the  approaching  festi- 
val. One  hapless  innkeeper  only  tried  to  carry  out  in 
practice  the  principles  which  the  deputation  from  his 
guild  had  so  eloquently  advocated;  and  being  convicted 
of  giving  away  bread  in  the  morning  to  the  Kitrian 


HYPATIA. 


411 


monks,  and  wine  in  the  evening  to  the  prefect’s  guards, 
had  his  tavern  gutted,  and  his  head  broken  by  a joint 
Plebiscitum  of  both  the  parties  whom  he  had  concili- 
ated, who  afterward  fought  a little  together,  and  then, 
luckily  for  the  general  peace,  mutually  ran  away  from 
each  other. 

Cyril  in  the  mean  while,  though  he  was  doing  a fool- 
ish thing,  was  doing  it  wisely  enough.  Orestes  might 
curse,  and  respectability  might  deplore  those  nightly 
sermons,  which  shook  the  mighty  arcades  of  the  Csesa- 
reum,  but  they  could  not  answer  them.  Cyril  was 
right,  and  knew  that  he  was  right.  Orestes  was  a 
scoundrel,  hateful  to  God,  and  to  the  enemies  of  God. 
The  middle  classes  were  lukewarm,  covetous  cowards; 
the  whole  system  of  governlnent  was  a swindle  and  an 
injustice;  all  men’s  hearts  were  mad  with  crying, 
“Lord,  how  long?”  The  fierce  bishop  had  only  to 
thunder  forth  text  on  text,  frojrn  every  book  of  scrip- 
ture, old  and  new,  in  order  to  array  on  his  side  not 
merely  the  common  sense  and  the  right  feeling,  but 
the  bigotry  and  ferocity  of  the  masses. 

In  vain  did  the  good  Arsenius  represent  to  him  not 
only  the  scandal  but  the  unrighteousness  of  his  new 
canonization.  “I  must  have  fuel,  my  good  father,” 
was  his  answer,  “ wherewith  to  keep  alight  the  flame 
of  zeal.  If  I am  to  be  silent  as  to  Heraclian’s  defeat, 
I must  give  them  some  irritant,  which  will  put  them 
in  a proper  temper  to  act  on  that  defeat,  when  they 
are  told  of  it.  If  they  hate  Orestes,  does  he  not  de- 
serve it  ? Even  if  he  is  not  altogether  as  much  in  the 
wrong  in  this  particular  case  as  they  fancy  he  is,  are 
there  not  a thousand  other  crimes  of  his  which  deserve 
their  abhorrence  even  more?  At  all  events,  he  must 
proclaim  the  empire,  as  you  yourself  say,  or  we  shall 
have  no  handle  against  him.  He  will  not  dare  to  pro- 


412 


HYPATIA. 


claim  it,  if  he  knows  that  we  are  aware  of  the  truth. 
And  if  we  are  to  keep  the  truth  in  reserve,  we  must 
have  something'  else  to  serve  meanwhile  as  a substi- 
tute for  it.” 

And  poor  Arsenius  submitted  with  a sigh,  as  he  saw 
Cyril  making  a fresh  step  in  that  alluring  path  of  evil- 
doing  that  good  might  come,  which  led  him  in  after- 
years  into  many  a fearful  sin,  and  left  his  name  dis- 
graced, perhaps  forever,  in  the  judgment  of  genera- 
tions, who  know  as  little  of  the  pandemonium  against 
which  he  fought,  as  they  do  of  the  intense  belief  which 
sustained  him  in  his  warfare;  and  who  have  therefore 
neither  understanding  nor  pardon  for  the  occasional 
outrages  and  errors  of  a man  no  worse,  even  if  no  bet- 
ter than  themselves. 


HYPATIA. 


415 


CHAPTER  XXL 

THE  SQUIRE-BISHOP. 

In  a small  and  ill-furnished  upper  room  of  a fortified 
country-house,  sat  Synesius,  the  Bishop  of  Cyrene. 

A goblet  of  wine  stood  beside  him  on  the  table,  but 
it  was  untasted.  Slowly  and  sadly,  by  the  light  of  a 
tiny  lamp,  he  went  on  writing  a verse  or  two,  and 
then  burying  his  face  in  his  hand,  while  hot  tears 
dropped  between  his  fingers  on  the  paper;  till  a serv- 
ant entering,  announced  Raphael  Aben-Ezra. 

Synesius  rose,  with  a gesture  of  surprise,  and  hurried 
toward  the  door.  “No,  ask  him  to  come  hither  to  me. 
To  pass  through  those  deserted  rooms  at  night  is  more 
than  I can  bear.”  And  he  waited  for  his  guest  at  the 
chamber  door,  and  as  he  entered,  caught  both  his 
hands  in  his,  and  tried  to  speak;  but  his  voice  was 
choked  within  him. 

“ Do  not  speak,”  said  Raphael,  gently,  leading  him 
to  his  chair  again.  “ I know  all.” 

“You  know  all?  And  are  you,  then,  so  unlike  the 
rest  of  the  world,  that  you  alone  have  come  to  visit 
the  bereaved  and  the  deserted  in  his  misery.” 

“ I am  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  after  all : for  I 
came  to  you  on  my  own  selfish  errand  to  seek  comfort. 
Would  that  I could  give  it  instead!  But  the  servants 
told  me  all,  below.” 

“ And  yet  you  persisted  in  seeing  me,  as  if  I could 
help  you ! Alas ! I can  help  no  one  now.  Here  I am 


416 


HYPATIA. 


at  last,  utterly  alone,  utterly  helpless.  As  I came 
from  my  mother’s  womb,  so  I shall  return  again.  My 
last  child — my  last  and  fairest — gone  after  the  rest ! 
Thank  God,  that  I have  had  even  a day’s  peace  wherein 
to  lay  him  by  his  mother  and  his  brothers : though  He 
alone  knows  how  long  the  beloved  graves  may  remain 
unrifled.  Let  it  have  been  shame  enough  to  sit  here 
in  my  lonely  tower  and  watch  the  ashes  of  my  Spartan 
ancestors,  the  sons  of  Hercules  himself,  my  glory  and 
my  pride,  sinful  fool  that  I was!  cast  to  the  winds  by 
barbarian  plunderers.  . . . When  wilt  thou  make  an 
end,  O Lord,  and  slay  me  ? ” 

“ And  how  did  the  poor  boy  die  ? ” asked  Raphael,  in 
hope  of  soothing  sorrow  by  enticing  it  to  vent  itself 
in  words. 

“The  pestilence.  What  other  fate  can  we  expect, 
who  breathe  an  air  tainted  with  corpses,  and  sit  under 
a sky  darkened  with  carrion  birds  ? But  I could  en- 
dure even  that,  if  I could  work,  if  I could  help.  But 
to  sit  here  imprisoned  now  for  months  between  these 
hateful  towers;  night  after  night  to  watch  the  sky, 
red  with  burning  homesteads  ; day  after  day  to  have 
my  ears  ring  with  the  shrieks  of  the  dying  and  the 
captives — for  they  have  begun  now  to  murder  every 
male,  down  to  the  baby  at  the  breast — and  to  feel 
myself  utterly  fettered,  impotent,  sitting  here  like 
some  palsied  idiot,  waiting  for  my  end ! I long  to  rush 
out,  and  fall  fighting,  sword  in  hand  ; but  I am  their 
last,  their  only  hope.  The  governors  care  nothing  for 
our  supplications.  In  vain  have  I memorialized  Gen- 
nadius  and  Innocent,  with  little  eloquence  my  misery 
had  not  stunned  in  me.  But  there  is  resolution,  no 
unanimity  left  in  the  land.  The  soldiery  are  scattered 
in  small  garrisons,  employed  entirely  in  protecting  the 
private  property  of  their  officers.  The  Ausurians  de- 


HYPATIA. 


417 


feat  them  piecemeal,  and,  armed  with  their  spoils, 
actually  have  begun  to  beleaguer  fortified  towns:  and 
now  there  is  nothing  left  for  us  but  to  pray  that,  like 
Ulysses,  we  may  be  devoured  the  last.  What  am  I 
doing  ? I am  selfishly  pouring  out  my  own  sorrows, 
instead  of  listening  to  yours.” 

“ Nay,  friend,  you  are  talking  of  the  sorrows  of  your 
country,  not  of  your  own.  As  for  me,  I have  no  sor- 
row— only  a despair:  which,  being  irremediable,  may 
well  wait.  But  you — oh,  you  must  not  stay  here. 
Why  not  escape  to  Alexandria  ? ” 

“ I will  die  at  my  post  as  I have  lived,  the  father  of 
my  people.  When  the  last  ruin  comes,  and  Cyrene 
itself  is  besieged,  I shall  return  thither  from  my  pres- 
ent outpost,  and  the  conquerors  shall  find  the  bishop 
in  his  place  before  the  altar.  There  I have  offered  for 
years  the  unbloody  sacrifice  to  Him,  who  will  perhaps 
require  of  me  a bloody  one,  that  so  the  sight  of  an  altar 
polluted  by  the  murder  of  His  priest,  may  end  the  sum 
of  Pentapolitan  woe,  and  arouse  Him  to  avenge  His 
slaughtered  sheep!  There,  we  will  talk  no  more  of  it. 
This,  at  least,  I have  left  in  my  power,  to  make  you 
welcome.  And  after  supper  you  shall  tell  me  what 
brings  you  hither.” 

And  the  good  bishop,  calling  his  servants,  set  to 
work  to  show  his  guest  such  hospitality  as  the  invaders 
had  left  in  his  power. 

Raphaels  usual  insight  had  not  deserted  him  when,, 
in  his  utter  perplexity,  he  went,  almost  instinctively, 
straight  to  Synesius.  The  Bishop  of  Cyrene,  to  judge 
from  the  charming  private  letters  which  he  has  left, 
was  one  of  those  many-sided,  volatile,  restless  men, 
who  taste  joy  and  sorrow,  if  not  deeply  or  permanently, 
yet  abundantly  and  passionately.  He  lived,  as  Raphael 
had  told  Orestes,  in  a whirlwind  of  good  deeds,  med- 
27 


418 


HYPATIA. 


tiling  and  toiling  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  action ; and 
as  soon  as  there  was  nothing  to  be  done,  which,  till 
lately,  had  happened  seldom  enough  with  him,  paid 
the  penalty  for  past  excitement  in  fits  of  melancholy. 
A man  of  magniloquent  and  flowery  style,  not  without 
a vein  of  self-conceit;  yet  withal  of  overflowing  kind- 
ness, racy  humor,  and  unflinching  courage,  both  physi- 
cal and  moral;  with  a very  clear  practical  faculty,  and 
a very  muddy  speculative  one — though,  of  course,  like 
the  rest  of  the  world,  he  was  especially  proud  of  his 
own  weakest  side,  and  professed  the  most  passionate 
affection  for  philosophic  meditation ; while  his  detrac- 
tors hinted,  not  without  a show  of  reason,  that  he  was 
far  more  of  an  adept  in  soldiering  and  dog-breaking 
than  in  the  mysteries  of  the  unseen  world. 

To  him  Raphael  betook  himself,  he  hardly  knew 
why;  certainly  not  for  philosophic  consolation;  per- 
haps because  Synesius  was,  as  Raphael  used  to  say, 
the  only  Christian  from  whom  he  had  ever  heard  a 
hearty  laugh ; perhaps  because  he  had  some  wayward 
hope,  unconfessed  even  to  himself,  that  he  might  meet 
at  Synesius’s  house  the  very  companions  from  whom 
he  had  just  fled.  He  was  fluttering  round  Victoria’s 
new  and  strange  brilliance  like  a moth  round  the  can- 
dle, as  he  confessed,  after  supper,  to  his  host;  and  now 
he  was  come  hither,  on  the  chance  of  being  able  to 
singe  his  wings  once  more. 

Not  that  his  confession  was  extracted  without  much 
trouble  to  the  old  man,  who,  seeing  at  once  that  Raphael 
had  some  weight  upon  his  mind,  which  he  longed  to 
tell  and  yet  was  either  too  suspicious  or  too  proud  to 
tell,  set  himself  to  ferret  out  the  secret,  and  forgot  all 
his  sorrows  for  the  time,  as  soon  as  he  found  a human 
being  to  whom  he  might  do  good.  But  Raphael  was 
inexplicably  wayward  and  unlike  himself.  All  his 


419 


HYPATIA. 

smooth  and  shallow  persiflage,  even  his  shrewd  satiric 
humor  had  vanished.  He  seemed  parched  by  some 
inward  fever,  restless,  moody,  abrupt,  even  peevish; 
and  Synesius's  curiosity  rose  with  his  disappointment, 
as  Raphael  went  on  obstinately  declining  to  consult 
the  very  physician  before  whom  he  had  presented  him- 
self as  patient. 

“And  what  can  you  do  for  me,  if  I did  tell  you  ?" 

“ Then  allow  me,  my  very  dear  friend,  to  ask  this : 
As  you  deny  having  visited  me  on  my  own  account, 
on  what  account  did  you  visit  me?” 

“ Can  you  ask  ? To  enjoy  the  society  of  the  most 
finished  gentleman  of  Pentapolis." 

“ And  was  that  worth  a week's  journey,  in  perpetual 
danger  of  death  ? " 

“ As  for  danger  of  death,  that  weighs  .little  with  a 
man  who  is  careless  of  life.  And  as  for  the  week's 
journey,  I had  a dream  one  night,  on  my  way,  which 
made  me  question  whether  I were  wise  in  troubling  a 
Christian  bishop  with  any  thoughts  or  questions  which 
relate  merely  to  poor  human  beings  like  myself,  who 
marry  and  are  given  in  marriage." 

“You  forget,  friend,  that  you  are  speaking  to  one 
who  was  married,  and  loved — and  lost." 

“I  did  not.  But  you  see  how  rude  I am  growing. 
I am  no  fit  compan}^  for  you  or  any  man.  I believe  I 
shall  end  my  turning  robber-chief,  and  heading  a party 
of  Ausurians." 

“But,"  said  the  patient  S3mesius,  “you  have  forgot- 
ten your  dream  all  this  while." 

“Forgotten!  I did  not  promise  to  tell  it  to  you, 
did  I ? " 

“No;  but  as  it  seems  to  have  contained  some  sort 
of  accusation  against  my  capacity,  do  you  not  think  it 
but  fair  to  tell  the  accused  what  it  was  ? " 


420 


HYPATIA. 


Raphael  smiled.  "Well,  then.  . . . Suppose  I had 
dreamt  this.  That  a philosopher,  an  academic,  and  a 
believer  in  nothing*  and  in  no  man,  had  met  at  Berenice 
certain  rabbis  of  the  Jews,  and  heard  them  reading 
and  expounding  a certain  book  of  Solomon — the  Song 
of  Songs.  You,  as  a learned  man,  know  into  what 
sort  of  trumpery  allegory  they  would  contrive  to  twist 
it;  how  the  bride's  eyes  were  to  mean  the  scribes  who 
were  full  of  wisdom,  as  the  pools  of  Heshbon  were  of 
water;  and  her  stature,  spreading  like  a palm-tree,  the 
priests  who  spread  out  their  hands  when  blessing  the 
people;  and  the  left  hand  which  should  be  under  her 
head,  the  Tephilim  which  these  old  pedants  wore  on 
their  left  wrists;  and  the  right  hand  which  should  hold 
her,  the  Mezuzah  which  they  fixed  on  the  right  side  of 
their  doors «to  keep  off  devils;  and  so  forth." 

“ I have  heard  such  silly  Cabbalisms,  certainly." 

"You  have?  Then  suppose  that  I went  on,  and 
saw  in  my  dream  how  this  same  academic  and  unbe- 
liever, being  himself  also  a Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews, 
snatched  the  roll  out  of  the  rabbi’s  hand,  and  told 
them  that  they  were  a party  of  fools  for  trying  to  set 
forth  what  the  book  might  possibly  mean,  before  they 
had  found  out  what  it  really  did  mean,  and  that  they 
could  only  find  out  that  by  looking  honestly  at  the 
plain  words  to  see  what  Solomon  meant  by  it.  And 
then,  suppose  that  this  same  apostate  Jew,  this  mem- 
ber of  the  synagogue  of  Satan,  in  his  carnal  and  law- 
less imaginations,  had  waxed  eloquent  with  the  elo- 
quence of  devils,  and  told  them,  that  the  book  set  forth, 
to  those  who  had  eyes  to  see,  how  Solomon  the  great 
king,  with  his  threescore  queens  and  fourscore  concu- 
bines, and  virgins  without  number,  forgets  all  his 
seraglio  and  his  luxury  in  pure  and  noble  love  for  the 
undefiled,  who,  is  but  one;  and  how,  as  his  eyes  are 


HYPATIA. 


421 


opened  to  see  that  God  made  the  one  man  for  the  one 
woman,  and  the  one  woman  to  the  one  man,  even  as 
was  in  the  garden  of  Eden,  so  all  his  heart  and  thoughts 
become  pure,  and  gentle,  and  simple;  how  the  song  of 
the  birds,  and  the  scent  of  the  grapes,  and  the  spicy 
southern  gales,  and  all  the  simple  country  pleasures 
of  the  glens  of  Lebanon,  which  he  shares  with  his  own 
vine-dressers  and  slaves,  become  more  precious  in  his 
eyes  than  all  his  palaces  and  artificial  pomp;  and  the 
man  feels  that  he  is  in  harmony,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  with  the  universe  of  God,  and  with  the  mys- 
tery of  the  seasons;  that  within  him,  as  well  as  with- 
out him,  the  winter  is  past,  and  the  rain  is  over  and 
gone;  the  flowers  appear  on  the  earth,  and  the  voice 
of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  the  land.  . . . And  suppose  I 
saw  in  my  dream  how  the  rabbis,  when  they  heard 
those  wicked  words,  stopped  their  ears  with  one  ac- 
cord, and  ran  upon  that  son  of  Belial  and  cast  him 
out,  because  he  blasphemed  their  sacred  books  by  his 
carnal  interpretations.  And  suppose — I only  say  sup- 
pose— that  I saw  in  my  dream  how  the  poor  man  said 
in  his  heart,  ‘I  will  go  to  the  Christians;  they  ac- 
knowledge the  sacredness  of  this  same  book,  and  they 
say  that  their  God  taught  them  that  “ in  the  beginning 
God  made  man,  male  and  female/’  Perhaps  they  wTill 
tell  me  whether  this  Song  of  Song  does  not,  as  it  seems 
to  me  to  do,  show  the  passage  upward  from  polygamy 
to  that  monogamy  which  they  so  solemnly  command; 
and  agree  with  me,  that  it  is  because  the  song  preaches 
this  that  it  has  a right  to  take  its  place  among  the 
holy  writings  ? ’ You,  as  a Christian  bishop,  should 
know  what  answer  such  a man  would  receive.  . . . 
You  are  silent?  Then  I will  tell  you  what  answer  he 
seemed  to  receive  in  my  dream.  ‘ O blasphemous  and 
carnal  man,  who  pervertest  Holy  Scripture  into  a 


422 


HYPATIA. 


cloak  for  thine  own  licentiousness,  as  if  it  spoke  of 
man’s  base  sensual  affections,  know  that  this  book  is 
to  be  spiritually  interpreted  of  the  marriage  between 
the  soul  and  its  Creator  and  that  it  is  from  this  very 
book  that  the  Catholic  Church  derives  her  strongest 
arguments  in  favor  of  holy  virginity,  and  the  glories 
of  a celibate  life/  ” 

Synesius  was  still  silent. 

“And  what  do  you  think  I saw  in  my  dream  that 
that  man  did  when  he  found  these  Christians  enforc- 
ing, as  a necessary  article  of  practice,  as  well  as  of 
faith,  a baseless  and  bombastic  metaphor,  borrowed 
from  that  very  Neo-Platonism  out  of  which  he  had 
just  fled  for  his  life  ? He  cursed  the  day  he  was  born, 
and  the  hour  in  which  his  father  was  told,  ‘ Thou  hast 
gotten  a man-child/  and  said,  f Philosophers,  Jews  and 
Christians,  farewell  forever  and  a day.  The  clearest 
words  of  your  most  sacred  books  mean  anything  or 
nothing,  as  the  case  may  suit  your  fancies;  and  there 
is  neither  truth  nor  reason  under  the  sun.  What 
better  is  there  for  a man,  than  to  follow  the  example 
of  his  people,  and  to  turn  usurer,  and  money-getter; 
and  cajoler  of  fools  in  his  turn,  even  as  his  father  was 
before  him  ? 9 99 

Synesius  remained  awhile  in  deep  thought,  and  at 
last — 

“And  yet  you  came  to  me  ? ” 

“ I did,  because  you  have  loved  and  married ; be- 
cause you  have  stood  out  manfully  against  this  strange 
modern  insanity,  and  refused  to  give  up,  when  you 
were  made  a bishop,  the  wife  whom  God  had  given 
you.  You  I thought  could  solve  the  riddle  for  me,  if 
any  man  could.” 

“Alas,  friend ! I have  begun  to  distrust,  of  late,  my 
power  of  solving  riddles.  After  all,  why  should  they 


HYPATIA. 


423 


be  solved  ? What  matters  one  more  mystery  in  a 
world  of  mysteries?  ‘If  thou  marry,  thou  hast  not 
sinned/  are  St.  Paul’s  own  words;  and  let  them  be 
enough  for  us.  Do  not  ask  me  to  argue  with  you,  but 
to  help  you.  Instead  of  puzzling  me  with  deep  ques- 
tions, and  tempting  me  to  set  up  my  private  judg- 
ment, as  I have  done  too  often  already,  against  the 
opinion  of  the  Church,  tell  me  your  story,  and  test  my 
sympathy  rather  than  my  intellect.  I shall  feel  with 
you  and  work  for  you,  doubt  not,  even  though  I am 
unable  to  explain  to  myself  why  I do  it.” 

“ Then  you  cannot  solve  my  riddle  ? ” 

“ Let  me  help  you,”  said  Synesius  with  a sweet  smile,, 
“to  solve  it  for  yourself.  You  need  not  try  to  deceive 
me.  You  have  a love,  an  undefiled,  who  is  but  one. 
When  you  possess  her,  you  will  be  able  to  judge  better 
whether  your  interpretation  of  the  song  is  the  true 
one;  and  if  you  still  think  that  it  is,  Synesius,  at  least, 
will  have  no  quarrel  against  you.  He  has  always 
claimed  for  himself  the  right  of  philosophizing  in  pri- 
vate, and  he  will  allow  the  same  liberty  to  you,  whether 
the  mob  do  or  not.” 

“ Then  you  agree  with  me  ? Of  course  .you  do ! ” 

“ Is  it  fair  to  ask  me  whether  I accept  a novel  inter- 
pretation, which  I have  only  heard  five  minutes  ago, 
delivered  in  a somewhat  hasty  and  rhetorical  form  ? ” 

“ You  are  shirking  the  question,”  said  Raphael, 
peevishly. 

“And  what  if  I am  ? Tell  me,  point-blank,  most  self- 
tormenting  of  men,  can  I help  you  in  practice,  even 
though  I choose  to  leave  you  to  yourself  in  specula- 
tion ? ” 

“ W ell,  then,  if  you  will  have  my  story,  take  it,  and 
judge  for  yourself  of  Christian  common  sense.” 

And  hurried,  as  if  ashamed  of  his  own  confession. 


424 


HYPATIA. 


and  yet  compelled,  in  spite  of  himself,  to  unbosom  it, 
he  told  Synesius  all,  from  the  first  meeting'  with  Vic- 
toria, to  his  escape  from  her  at  Berenice. 

The  good  bishop,  to  Aben-Ezra's  surprise,  seemed 
to  treat  the  whole  matter  as  infinitely  amusing.  He 
chuckled,  smote  his  hand  on  his  thigh,  and  nodded  ap- 
proval at  every  pause — perhaps  to  give  the  speaker 
courage — perhaps  because  he  really  thought  that 
Raphael's  prospects  were  considerably  less  desperate 
than  he  fancied.  . . . 

“ If  you  laugh  at  me,  Synesius,  I am  silent.  It  is 
quite  enough  to  endure  the  humiliation  of  telling  you 
that  I am — confound  it!  like  an}7  boy  of  sixteen." 

“ Laugh  at  you  ? With  you,  you  mean.  A convent  ? 
Pooh,  pooh!  The  old  prefect  has  enough  sense,  I will 
warrant  him,  not  to  refuse  a good  match  for  his 
child." 

“You  forget  that  I have  not  the  honor  of  being  a 
Christian." 

“Then  we'll  make  you  one.  You  won't  let  me  con- 
vert you,  I know;  you  always  used  to  gibe  and  jeer  at 
my  philosophy.  Bub  Augustine  comes  to-morrow." 

“ Augustine  ? " 

“ He  does  indeed ; and  we  must  be  off  by  daybreak, 
with  all  the  armed  men  we  can  muster,  to  meet  and 
escort  him,  and  to  hunt,  of  course,  going  and  coming; 
for  we  have  had  no  food  this  fortnight,  but  what  our  own 
dogs  and  bows  have  furnished  us.  He  shall  take  you 
in  hand,  and  cure  you  of  all  your  Judaism  in  a week; 
and  then  just  leave  the  rest  to  me;  I will  manage  it 
somehow  or  other.  It  is  sure  to  come  right.  No;  do 
not  be  bashful.  It  will  be  real  amusement  to  a poor 
wretch  who  can  find  nothing  else  to  do — Heigho ! And 
as  for  lying  under  an  obligation  to  me,  why  we  can 
square  that  by  your  lending  me  three  or  four  thousand 


HYPATIA. 


425 


gold  pieces — Heaven  knows  I want  them ! on  the  cer- 
tainty of  never  seeing  them  again.” 

Raphael  could  not  help  laughing  in  his  turn. 

“ Synesius  is  himself  still,  I see.  and  not  unworthy  of 
his  ancestor  Hercules;  and  though  he  shrinks  from 
cleansing  the  Augean  stable  of  my  soul,  paws  like  a 
war-horse  in  the  valley  at  the  hope  of  undertaking 
any  lesser  labors  in  my  behalf.  But,  my  dear  gener- 
ous bishop,  this  matter  is  more  serious,  and  I,  the  sub- 
ject of  it,  have  become  more  serious  also,  than  you 
fancy.  Consider:  by  the  uncorrupt  honor  of  your 
Spartan  forefathers,  Agis,  Brasidas,  and  the  rest  of 
them,  don't  you  think  that  you  are,  in  your  hasty 
kindness,  tempting  me  to  behave  in  a way  which  they 
would  have  called  somewhat  rascally?” 

“ How  then,  my  dear  man?  You  have  a very  hon- 
orable and  praiseworthy  desire;  and  I am  willing  to 
help  you  to  compass  it.” 

“Do  not  think  that  I have  not  cast  about  before 
now  for  more  than  one  method  of  compassing  it  for 
myself.  My  good  man,  I have  been  tempted  a dozen 
times  already  to  turn  Christian;  but  there  has  risen 
up  in  me  the  strangest  fancy  about  conscience  and 
honor.  ...  I never  was  scrupulous  before.  Heaven 
knows — I am  not  over-scrupulous  now — except  about 
her.  I cannot  dissemble  before  her.  I dare  not  look 
in  her  face  when  I had  a lie  in  my  right  hand.  . . . She 
looks  through  one — into  one — like  a clear-eyed,  awful 
goddess.  ...  I never  was  ashamed  in  my  life  till  my 
eyes  met  hers.” 

“ But  if  you  really  became  a Christian  ? ” 

“ I cannot,  I should  suspect  my  own  motives.  Here 
is  another  of  these  absurd  soul-anatomizing  scruples 
which  have  risen  up  in  me.  I should  suspect  that  I 
had  changed  my  creed  because  I had  wished  to  change 


426 


HYPATIA. 


it — that  if  I was  not  deceiving  her,  I was  deceiving 
myself.  If  I had  not  loved  her,  it  might  have  been 
different;  but  now — just  because  I do  love  her,  I will 
not,  I dare  not,  listen  to  Augustine’s  arguments,  or 
my  own  thoughts  on  the  matter.” 

“ Most  wayward  of  men ! ” cried  Synesius,  half  pet- 
tishly;  “ you  seem  to  take  some  perverse  pleasure  in 
throwing  yourself  into  the  waves  again,  the  instant 
you  have  climbed  a rock  of  refuge ! ” 

“ Pleasure ! Is  there  any  pleasure  in  feeling  one’s  self 
at  death-grips  with  the  devil  ? I had  given  up  believ- 
ing in  him  for  many  a year.  . . . And  behold,  the  mo- 
ment that  I awaken  to  anything  noble  and  right,  I 
find  the  old  serpent  alive  and  strong  at  my  throat! 
No  wonder  that  I suspect  him,  you,  myself — I,  who 
have  been  tempted  every  hour  in  the  last  week, 
tempted  to  become  a devil.  Ay,”  he  went  on,  raising 
his  voice,  as  all  the  fire  of  his  intense  Eastern  nature 
flashed  from  his  black  eyes,  “ to  be  a devil ! From  my 
childhood  till  now  never  have  I known  what  it  was  to 
desire,  and  not  to  possess.  It  is  not  often  that  I have 
had  to  trouble  any  poor  Naboth  for  his  vineyard:  but 
when  I have  taken  a fancy  to  it,  Naboth  has  always 
found  it  wiser  to  give  way.  And  now.  . . . Do  you 
fancy  that  I have  not  had  a dozen  hellish  plots  Hash- 
ing across  me  in  the  last  week  ? Look  here  ! This  is 
the  mortgage  of  her  father’s  whole  estate.  I bought 
it — whether  by  the  instigation  of  Satan  or  God — of  a 
banker  in  Berenice,  the  very  day  I left  them;  and  now 
they,  and  every  straw  which  they  possess,  are  in  my 
power.  I can  ruin  them — sell  them  as  slaves — betray 
them  to  death  as  rebels — and  last,  but  not  least,  can- 
not I hire  a dozen  worthy  men  to  carry  her  off,  and 
cut  the  Gordian  knot  most  simply  and  summarily  ? 
And  yet  I dare  not.  I must  be  pure  to  approach  the 


HYPATIA. 


427 


pure;  and  righteous,  to  kiss  the  feet  of  the  righteous. 
Whence  came  this  new  conscience  to  me  I know  not, 
hut  come  it  has;  and  I dare  no  more  do  a base  thing 
toward  her,  than  I dare  toward  a God,  if  there  be  one. 
This  very  mortgage — I hate  it,  curse  it,  now  that  I 
possess  it — the  tempting  devil ! " 

" Burn  it,"  said  Synesius,  quietly. 

" Perhaps  I may.  At  least,  used  it  never  shall  he. 
Compel  her  ? I am  too  proud,  or  too  honorable,  or 
something  or  other,  even  to  solicit  her.  She  must 
come  to  me;  tell  me  with  her  own  lips  that  she  loves 
me,  that  she  will  take  me,  and  make  me  worthy  of 
her.  She  must  have  mercy  on  me,  of  her  own  free 
will,  or — let  her  pine  and  die  in  that  accursed  prison ; 
and  then  a scratch  with  the  trusty  old  dagger  for  her 
father,  and  another  for  myself,  will  save  him  from  any 
more  superstitions,  and  me  from  any  more  philosophic 
doubts,  for  a few  asons  of  ages,  till  we  start  again  in 
new  lives — he,  I suppose,  as  a jackass,  and  I as  a bab- 
boon.  What  matter  ? but  unless  I possess  her  by  fair 
means,  God  do  so  to  me,  and  more  also,  if  I attempt 
base  ones ! " 

"God  be  with  you,  my  son,  in  the  noble  warfare!" 
said  Synesius,  his  eyes  filling  with  kindly  tears. 

" It  is  no  noble  warfare  at  all.  It  is  a base  coward 
fear,  in  one  who  never  before  feared  man  or  devil,  and 
is  now  fallen  low  enough  to  be  afraid  of  a helpless 
girl ! " 

"Not  so,"  cried  Synesius,  in  his  turn:  "it  is  a noble 
and  a holy  fear.  You  fear  her  goodness.  Could  you 
see  her  goodness,  much  less  fear  it,  were  there  not  a 
Divine  Light  within  you  which  showed  you  what,  and 
how  awful,  goodness  was  ? Tell  me  no  more,  Raphael 
Aben-Ezra,  that  you  do  not  fear  God : for  he  who  fears 
virtue,  fears  Him  whose  likeness  virtue  is.  Go  on — go 


428 


HYPATIA. 


on.  . . . Be  brave,  and  his  strength  will  be  made  mani- 
fest in  your  weakness.” 

****** 

It  was  late  that  night  before  Synesius  compelled  his 
guest  to  retire,  after  having  warned  him  not  to  disturb 
himself  if  he  heard  the  alarm-bell  ring,  as  the  house 
was  well  garrisoned,  and  having  set  the  water-clock 
by  which  he  and  his  servants  measured  their  respec- 
tive watches.  And  then  the  good  bishop,  having  dis- 
posed his  sentinels,  took  his  station  on  the  top  of  his 
tower,  close  by  the  warning-bell ; and  as  he  looked  out 
over  the  broad  lands  of  his  forefathers  and  prayed 
that  there  desolation  might  come  to  an  end  at  last,  he 
did  not  forget  to  pray  for  the  consolation  of  the  guest 
who  slept  below,  a happier  and  more  healthy  slumber 
than  he  had  known  for  many  a week.  For  before 
Raphael  lay  down  that  night,  he  had  torn  to  shreds 
Majoricus’s  mortgage,  and  felt  a lighter  and  a better 
man  as  he  saw  the  cunning  temptation  consuming 
scrap  by  scrap  in  the  lamp-flame.  And  then,  wearied 
out  with  fatigue  of  body  and  mind,  he  forgot  Synesius, 
Victoria,  and  the  rest,  and  seemed  to  himself  to  wan- 
der all  night  among  the  vine-clad  glens  of  Lebanon, 
among  the  gardens  of  lilies,  and  the  beds  of  spices; 
while  shepherds’  music  lured  him  on  and  on,  and  girl- 
ish voices,  chanting  the  mystic  idyl  of  his  mighty  an- 
cestor, ran  soft  and  fitful  through  his  weary  brain. 
****** 

Before  sunrise  the  next  morning,  Raphael  was  faring 
forth  gallantly,  well  armed  and  mounted,  by  Synesius’s 
side,  followed  by  four  or  five  brace  of  tall,  brush-tailed 
greyhounds,  and  by  the  faithful  Bran,  whose  lop-ears 
and  heavy  jaws,  unique  in  that  land  of  prick-ears  and 
fox-noses,  formed  the  absorbing  subject  of  conversa- 
tion among  some  twenty  smart  retainers,  who,  armed 


HYPATIA. 


429 


to  the  teeth  for  chase  and  war,  rode  behind  the  bishop 
on  half-starved,  raw-boned  horses,  inured  by  desert 
training  and  bad  times  to  do  the  maximum  of  work 
upon  the  minimum  of  food. 

For  the  first  few  miles  they  rode  in  silence,  through 
ruined  villages  and  desolated  farms,  from  which  here 
and  there  a single  inhabitant  peeped  forth  fearfully, 
to  pour  his  tale  of  woe  into  the  ears  of  the  hapless  bish- 
op, and  then,  instead  of  asking  alms  from  him,  to  en- 
treat his  acceptance  of  some  paltry  remnant  of  grain 
or  poultry,  which  had  escaped  the  hands  of  the  marau- 
ders ; and  as  they  clung  to  his  hands,  and  blessed  him 
as  their  only  hope  and  stay,  poor  Synesius  heard  pa- 
tiently again  and  again  the  same  purposeless  tale  of 
woe,  and  mingled  his  tears  with  theirs,  and  then  spurred 
his  horse  on  impatiently,  as  if  to  escape  from  the  sight 
of  misery  which  he  could  not  relieve  ; while  a voice  in 
Raphael’s  heart  seemed  to  ask  him,  “ Why  was  thy 
wealth  given  to  thee,  but  that  thou  mightest  dry,  if 
but  for  a day,  such  tears  as  these  ? " 

And  he  fell  into  a meditation  which  was  not  without 
its  fruit  in  due  season,  but  which  lasted  till  they  had 
left  the  inclosed  country,  and  were  climbing  the  slopes 
of  the  low  rolling  hills,  over  which  lay  the  road  from 
the  distant  sea.  But  as  they  left  the  signs  of  war  be- 
hind them,  the  volatile  temper  of  the  good  bishop  be- 
gan to  rise.  He  petted  his  hounds,  chatted  to  his  men, 
discoursed  on  the  most  probable  quarter  for  finding 
game,  and  exhorted  them,  cheerfully  enough,  to  play 
the  man,  as  their  chance  of  having  anything  to  eat  at 
night  depended  entirely  on  their  prowess  during  the 
day. 

“ Ah ! " said  Raphael  at  last,  glad  of  a pretext  for 
breaking  his  own  chain  of  painful  thought,  "there  is  a 
vein  of  your  land-salt.  I suspect  that  you  were  all  at 


430 


HYPATIA. 


the  bottom  of  the  sea  once,  and  that  the  old  Earth- 
shaker,  Neptune,  tired  of  your  bad  ways,  gave  you  a 
lift  one  morning,  and  set  you  up  as  dry  land,  in  order 
to  be  rid  of  you/' 

“ It  may  really  be  so.  They  say  that  the  Argonauts 
returned  back  through  this  country  from  the  Southern 
Ocean,  which  must  have  been,  therefore,  far  nearer  us 
than  it  is  now,  and  that  they  carried  their  mystic  ves- 
sel over  these  very  hills  to  the  Syrtis.  However,  we 
have  forgotten  all  about  the  sea  thoroughly  enough 
since  that  time.  I well  remember  my  first  astonish- 
ment at  the  sight  of  a galley  in  Alexandria,  and  the 
roar  of  laughter  with  which  my  fellow-students  greeted 
my  not  unreasonable  remark,  that  it  looked  very  like 
a centipede/' 

“And  do  you  recollect,  too,  the  argument  which  I 
had  once  with  your  steward  about  the  pickled  fish 
which  I brought  yon  from  Egypt ; and  the  way  in 
which,  when  the  jar  was  opened,  the  servants  shrieked 
and  ran  right  and  left,  declaring  that  the  fish  bones 
were  the  spines  of  poisonous  serpents  ? " 

“ The  old  fellow  is  as  obstinate  as  ever,  I assure  you, 
in  his  disbelief  of  salt  water.  He  torments  me  con- 
tinually by  asking  me  to  tell  him  the  story  of  my  ship- 
wreck, and  does  not  believe  me  after  all,  though  he 
has  heard  it  a dozen  times.  * Sir,'  he  said  to  me,  sol- 
emnly, after  you  were  gone,  f will  that  strange  gentle- 
man pretend  to  persuade  me  that  anything  eatable 
can  come  out  of  his  great  pond  there  at  Alexandria, 
when  every  one  can  see  that  the  best  fountain  in 
the  country  never  breeds  anything  but  frogs  and 
leeches  ? ' " 

As  he  spoke  they  left  the  last  field  behind  them,  and 
entered  upon  a vast  sheet  of  breezy  down,  speckled 
with  shrubs  and  copse,  and  split  here  and  there  by 


HYPATIA. 


431 


rocky  glens,  ending  in  fertile  val^s,  once  thick  with 
farms  and  homesteads. 

“ Here/'  cried  Synesius,  “ are  our  hunting-grounds. 
And  now  for  one  hour’s  forgetfulness,  and  the  joys  of 
the  noble  art!  What  could  old  Homer  have  been 
thinking  of  when  he  forgot  to  number  it  among  the 
pursuits  which  are  glorious  to  heroes,  and  make  man 
illustrious,  and  yet  could  laud  in  those  very  words  the 
forum  ? ” 

“The  forum?”  said  Raphael.  “I  never  saw  it  yet 
make  men  anything  but  rascals.” 

“ Brazen-faced  rascals,  my  friend.  I detest  the  whole 
breed  of  lawyers,  and  never  meet  one  without  turning 
him  into  ridicule ; effeminate  pettifoggers,  who  shud- 
der at  the  very  sight  of  roast  venison,  when  they  think 
of  the  dangers  by  which  it  has  been  procured.  But  it 
is  a cowardly  age,  my  friend — a cowardly  age.  Let 
us  forget  it,  and  ourselves.” 

“ And  even  philosophy  and  Hypatia  ? ” said  Raphael, 
archly. 

“ I have  done  with  philosophy.  To  fight  like  an 
Heracleid,  and  to  die  like  a bishop,  is  all  I have  left — 
except  Hypatia,  the  perfect,  the  wise,  I tell  you,  friend, 
it  is  a comfort  to  me,  even  in  my  deepest  misery,  to 
recollect  that  the  corrupt  world  yet  holds  one  being 
so  divine ” 

And  he  was  running  on  in  one  of  his  high-flown 
laudations  of  his  idol,  when  Raphael  checked  him. 

“ I fear  our  common  sympathy  on  that  subject  is 
rather  weakened.  I have  begun  to  doubt  her  lately 
nearly  as  much  as  I doubt  philosophy.” 

“ Not  her  virtue  ? ” 

“No,  friend  ; nor  her  beauty,  nor  her  wisdom;  sim- 
ply her  power  of  making  me  a better  man.  A selfish 
criterion,  you  will  say.  Be  it  so.  , . . What  a noble 
horse  that  is  of  yours ! ” 


432 


HYPATIA. 


“He  has  been — he  has  been;  hut  worn  out  now,  like 
his  master  and  his  master’s  fortunes.”  . . . 

“Not  so,  certainly,  the  colt  on  which  you  have  done 
me  the  honor  to  mount  me.” 

“Ah,  my  poor  boy’s  pet!  ...  You  are  the  first  per- 
son who  has  crossed  him  since ” 

“ Is  he  of  your  own  breeding-  ? ” asked  Raphael,  try- 
ing to  turn  the  conversation. 

“A  cross  between  that  white  Nisaean  which  you  sent 
me,  and  one  of  my  own  mares.” 

“Not  a bad  cross;  though  he  keeps  a little  of  the 
bullhead  and  greyhound  flank  of  your  Africans.” 

“So  much  the  better,  friend.  Give  me  bone — bone 
and  endurance  for  this  rough  down  country.  Your 
delicate  Nisseans  are  all  very  well  for  a few  minutes 
over  those  flat  sands  of  Egypt : but  here  you  need  a 
horse  who  will  go  forty  miles  a day  over  rough  and 
smooth,  and  dine  thankfully  off  thistles  at  night.  Aha, 
poor  little  man!”  as  a jerboa  sprang  up  from  a turf 
of  bushes  at  his  feet — “ I fear  you  must  help  to  fill  our 
soup-kettle  in  these  hard  times.” 

And  with  a dexterous  sweep  of  his  long  whip,  the 
worthy  bishop  entangled  the  jerboa’s  long  legs,  whisked 
him  up  to  his  saddle  bow,  and  delivered  him  to  the 
groom  and  the  game-bag. 

“Kill  him  at  once.  Don’t  let  him  squeak,  boy!  he 
cries  too  like  a child.”  . . . 

“ Poor  little  wretch ! ” said  Raphael.  “ What  more 
right,  now,  have  we  to  eat  him  than  he  to  eat  us  ? ” 
“Eh?  If  he  can  eat  us,  let  him  try.  How  long 
have  you  joined  the  Manichees?” 

“ Have  no  fears  on  that  score.  But,  as  I told  you, 
since  my  wonderful  conversion  by  Bran,  the  dog,  I 
have  begun  to  hold  dumb  animals  in  respect,  as  proba- 
bly quite  as  good  as  myself.” 


HYPATIA. 


433 


“ Then  you  need  a further  conversion,  friend  Raphael, 
and  to  learn  what  is  the  dignity  of  man;  and  when 
that  arrives,  you  will  learn  to  believe,  with  me,  that 
the  life  of  every  beast  upon  the  face  of  the  earth  would 
be  cheap  price  to  pay  in  exchange  for  the  life  of  the 
meanest  human  being/" 

“ Yes,  if  they  be  required  for  food:  but  really, to  kill 
them  for  our  amusement!"" 

“ Friend,  when  I was  still  a heathen,  I recollect  well 
how  I used  to  haggle  at  that  story  of  the  cursing  of 
the  fig-tree;  but  when  I learnt  to  know  what  man 
was,  and  that  I had  been  all  my  life  mistaking  for  a 
part  of  nature  that  race  which  was  originally,  and  can 
be  again,  made  in  the  likeness  of  God,  then  I began  to 
see  that  it  were  well  if  every  fig-tree  upon  earth  were 
cursed,  if  the  spirit  of  one  man  could  be  taught  thereby 
a single  lesson.  And  so  I speak  of  these,  my  darling 
field-sports,  on  which  I have  not  been  ashamed,  as  you 
know,  to  write  a book."" 

“And  a very  charming  one:  yet  you  were  still  a 
pagan,  recollect,  when  you  wrote  it."" 

“ I was ; and  then  I followed  the  chase  by  mere  na- 
ture and  inclination.  But  now  I know  I have  a right 
to  follow  it,  because  it  gives  me  endurance,  prompt- 
ness, courage,  self-control,  as  well  as  health  and  cheer- 
fulness : and  therefore — Ah ! a fresh  ostrich-track ! "" 

And  stopping  short,  Synesius  began  pricking  slowly 
up  the  hill-side. 

“Back!""  whispered  he,  at  last.  “Quietly  and  si- 
lently. Lie  down  on  your  horse’s  neck,  as  I do,  or  the 
long-necked  rogues  may  see  you.  They  must  be  close 
to  us  over  the  brow.  I know  that  favorite  grassy 
slope  of  old.  Round  under  yon  hill,  or  they  will  get 
wind  of  us,  and  then  farewell  to  them ! "" 

And  Synesius  and  his  groom  cantered  on,  hanging 
28 


434 


HYPATIA. 


each  to  their  horses’  necks  by  an  arm  and  a leg’,  in  a 
way  which  Raphael  endeavored  in  vain  to  imitate. 

Two  or  three  minutes  more  of  breathless  silence 
brought  them  to  the  edge  of  the  hill,  where  Synesius 
halted,  peered  down  a moment,  and  then  turned  to 
Raphael,  his  face  and  limbs  quivering  with  delight,  as 
he  held  up  two  fingers,  to  denote  the  number  of  the 
birds. 

“ Out  of  arrow-range ! Slip  the  dogs,  Syphax ! ” 

And  in  another  minute  Raphael  found  himself  gal- 
loping headlong  down  the  hill,  while  two  magnificent 
ostriches,  their  outspread  plumes  waving  in  the  bright 
breeze,  their  necks  stooped  almost  to  the  ground,  and 
their  long  legs  flashing  out  behind  them,  were  sweep- 
ing away  before  the  greyhounds  at  a pace  which  no 
mortal  horse  could  have  held  for  ten  minutes. 

“ Baby  that  I am  still ! ” cried  Synesius,  tears  of  ex- 
citement glittering’  in  his  eyes;  . . . while  Raphael 
gave  himself  up  to  the  joy,  and  forgot  even  Victoria, 
in  the  breathless  rush  over  rock  and  bush,  sandhill 
and  watercourse. 

“ Take  care  of  that  dry  torrent-bed ! Hold  up,  old 
horse!  This  will  not  last  two  minutes  more.  They 
cannot  hold  their  pace  against  this  breeze.  . . . Well 
tried,  good  dog,  though  you  did  miss  him ! Ah,  that 
my  boy  were  here ! There — they  double.  Spread  right 
and  left  my  children,  and  ride  at  them  as  they  pass!” 

And  the  ostriches,  unable,  as  Synesius  said,  to  keep 
their  pace  against  the  breeze,  turned  sharp  on  their 
pursuers,  and  beating  the  air  with  outspread  wings 
came  down  the  wind  again,  at  a rate  even  more  won- 
derful than  before. 

“ Ride  at  him,  Raphael — ride  at  him  and  turn  him 
into  those  bushes ! ” cried  Synesius,  fitting  an  arrow 
to  his  bow. 


HYPATIA. 


485 

Raphael  obeyed  and  the  bird  swerved  into  the  low 
scrub;  the  well-trained  horse  leapt  at  him  like  a cat; 
and  Raphael,  who  dared  not  trust  his  skill  in  archery, 
struck  with  his  whip  at  the  long-  neck  as  it  struggled 
past  him,  and  felled  the  noble  quarry  to  the  ground. 
He  was  in  the  act  of  springing  down  to  secure  his 
prize,  when  a shout  from  Synesius  stopped  him. 

“Are  you  mad?  He  will  kick  out  your  heart!  Let 
the  dogs  hold  him ! ” 


“ Spread  right  and  left,  my  children,  and  ride  at  them  as  they  pass.” 


“ Where  is  the  other  ? ” asked  Raphael,  panting. 

“ Where  he  ought  to  be.  I have  not  missed  a run- 
ning shot  for  many  a month/’ 

“ Really,  you  rival  the  Emperor  Commodus  himself.” 
“Ah!  I tried  his  fancy  of  crescent  headed  arrows 
once,  decapitated  an  ostrich  or  two  tolerably:  but 
they  are  only  fit  for  the  amphitheatre : they  will  not 
lie  safely  in  the  quiver  on  horseback,  I find.  But  what 
is  that  ? ” And  he  pointed  to  a cloud  of  white  dust. 


436 


HYPATIA. 


about  a mile  down  the  valley.  “ A herd  of  antelopes  ? 
If  so,  God  is  indeed  gracious  to  us!  Come  down — 
whatsoever  they  are  we  have  no  time  to  lose.” 

And  collecting  his  scattered  forces,  Synesius  pushed 
on  rapidly  toward  the  object  which  had  attracted  his 
attention. 

“ Antelopes ! ” cried  one. 

“Wild  horses!”  cried  another. 

“Tame  ones,  rather!”  cried  Synesius,  with  a ges- 
ture of  wrath.  “ I saw  the  flash  of  arms ! ” 

“The  Ausurians!”  And  a yell  of  rage  rang  from 
the  whole  troop. 

“ Will  you  follow  me,  children  ?” 

“ To  death ! ” shouted  they. 

“ I know  it.  Oh,  that  I had  seven  hundred  of  you, 
as  Abraham  had ! W e would  see  then  whether  these 
scoundrels  did  not  share  within  a week,  the  fate  of 
Chedorlaomer’s.” 

“Happy  man,  who  can  actually  trust  your  own 
slaves ! ” said  Raphael,  as  the  party  galloped  on,  tight- 
ening their  girths  and  getting  ready  their  weapons. 

“ Slaves  ? If  the  law  gives  me  the  power  of  selling 
one  or  two  of  them  who  are  not  yet  wise  enough  to  be 
trusted  to  take  care  of  themselves,  it  is  a fact  which 
both  I and  they  have  long  forgotten.  Their  fathers 
grew  gray  at  my  father’s  table,  and  God  grant  that 
thej7  may  grow  gray  at  mine ! We  eat  together,  work 
together,  hunt  together,  fight  together,  jest  together, 
and  weep  together.  God  help  us  all!  for  we  have  but 
one  common  weal.  Now — do  you  make  out  the  enemy, 
boys  ? ” 

“Ausurians,  your  holiness.  The  same  party  who 
tried  Myrsinitis  last  week.  I know  them  by  the  hel- 
mets which  they  took  from  the  Markmen.” 

“And  with  whom  are  they  fighting?” 


HYPATIA. 


437 


No  one  could  sec.  Fighting1  they  certainly  were: 
but  their  victims  were  beyond  them,  and  the  party 
galloped  on. 

“ That  was  a smart  business  at  Myrsinitis.  The 
Ausurians  appeared  while  the  people  were  at  morning 
prayers.  The  soldiers,  of  course,  ran  for  their  lives, 
and  hid  in  the  caverns,  leaving  the  matter  to  the 
priests.” 

“ If  they  were  of  your  presbytery,  I doubt  not  they 
proved  themselves  worthy  of  their  diocesan.” 

“Ah,  if  all  my  priests  were  but  like  them!  or  my 
people  either ! ” said  Synesius,  chatting  quietly  in  full 
gallop,  like  a true  son  of  the  saddle.  “ They  offered 
up  prayers  for  victory,  sallied  out  at  the  head  of  the 
peasants,  and  met  the  Moors  in  a narrow  pass.  There 
their  hearts  failed  them  a little.  Faustus,  the  deacon, 
makes  them  a speech;  charges  the  leader  of  the  rob- 
bers, like  young  David,  with  a stone,  beats  his  brains 
out  therewith,  strips  him  in  true  Homeric  fashion,  and 
routs  the  Ausurians  with  their  leader’s  sword ; returns 
and  erects  a trophy  in  due  classic  form,  and  saves  the 
whole  valley.” 

“You  should  make  him  archdeacon.” 

“ I would  send  him  and  his  townsfolk  round  the 
province,  if  I could,  crowned  with  laurel,  and  proclaim 
before  them  at  every  market-place,  ‘ These  are  men  of 
God.’  With  whom  can  those  Ausurians  be  dealing  ? 
Peasants  would  have  been  all  killed  long  ago,  and  sol- 
diers would  have  run  away  long  ago.  It  is  truly  a 
portent  in  this  country  to  see  a fight  last  ten  minutes. 
Who  can  they  be  ? I see  them  now,  and  hewing  away 
like  men  too.  They  are  all  on  foot  but  two;  and  we 
have  not  a cohort  of  infantry  left  for  many  a mile 
round.” 

“ I know  who  they  are ! ” cried  Raphael,  suddenly 


438 


HYPATIA. 


striking*  spurs  into  his  horse.  “ I will  swear  to  that 
armor  among  a thousand.  And  there  is  a litter  in  the 
midst  of  them.  On ! and  fight  them,  men,  if  you  ever 
fought  in  your  lives!  ” 

“ Softly ! ” cried  Synesius.  “ Trust  an  old  soldier, 
and  perhaps — alas ! that  he  should  have  to  say  it — the 
best  left  in  this  wretched  country.  Round  by  the 
hollow,  and  take  the  barbarians  suddenly  in  flank. 
They  will  not  see  us  then  till  we  are  within  twenty 
paces  of  them.  Aha!  you  have  a thing  or  two  to  learn 
yet,  Aben-Ezra.” 

And  chuckling  at  the  prospect  of  action,  the  gallant 
bishop  wheeled  his  little  troop,  and  in  five  minutes 
more  dashed  out  of  the  copse  with  a shout  and  a flight 
of  arrows,  and  rushed  into  the  thickest  of  the  fight. 

One  cavalry  skirmish  must  be  very  like  another.  A 
crash  of  horses,  a flashing  of  swordblades,  five  minutes 
of  blind  confusion,  and  then  those  who  have  not  been 
knocked  out  of  their  saddles  by  their  neighbors’  knees, 
and  have  not  cut  off  their  own  horses’  heads  instead 
of  their  enemy’s,  find  themselves,  they  know  not  how, 
either  running  away  or  being  run  away  from — not  one 
blow  in  ten  having  taken  effect  on  either  side.  And 
even  so  Raphael,  having  made  vain  attempts  to  Cut 
down  several  Moors,  found  himself  standing  on  his 
head,  in  an  altogether  undignified  posture,  among  in- 
numerable horses’  legs,  in  all  possible  frantic  motions. 
To  avoid  one,  was  to  get  in  the  way  of  another;  so  he 
philosophically  sat  still,  speculating  on  the  sensation 
of  having  his  brains  kicked  out,  till  the  cloud  of  legs 
vanished,  and  he  found  himself  kneeling  abjectly  op- 
posite the  nose  of  a mule,  on  whose  back  sat,  utterly 
unmoved,  a tall  and  reverend  man,  in  episcopal  cos- 
tume. The  stranger,  instead  of  bursting  out  laughing, 
as  Raphael  did,  solemnly  lifted  his  hand,  and  gave  him 


HYPATIA. 


439 


his  blessing*.  The  Jew  sprang*  to  his  feet,  heedless  of 
all  such  courtesies,  and,  looking*  round,  saw  the  Ausu- 
rians  galloping*  off  up  the  hill  in  scattered  groups, 
and  Synesius  standing  close  by  him,  wiping  a bloody 
sword. 

“ Is  the  litter  safe  ? ” were  his  first  words. 

“Safe;  and  so  are  all.  I gave  you  up  for  killed, 
when  I saw  you  run  through  with  that  lance.” 

“ Run  through  ? I am  as  sound  in  the  hide  as  a 
crocodile,”  said  Raphael,  laughing. 

“Probably  the  fellow  took  the  butt  instead  of  the 
point  in  his  hurry.  So  goes  a cavalry  scuffle.  I saw 
you  hit  three  or  four  fellows  running  with  the  flat  of 
your  sword.” 

“Ah,  that  explains,”  said  Raphael.  “ Why,  I thought 
myself  once  the  best  swordsman  on  the  Armenian 
frontier.”  . . . 

“ I suspect  you  were  thinking  of  some  one  besides 
the  Moors,”  said  Synesius,  archly,  pointing  to  the  litter; 
and  Raphael,  for  the  first  time  for  many  a year,  blushed 
like  a boy  of  fifteen,  and  then  turned  haughtily  away, 
and  remounted  his  horse,  saying,  “ Clumsy  fool  that  I 
was ! ” 

“ Thank  God  rather  that  you  have  been  kept  from 
the  shedding  of  blood,”  said  the  stranger  bishop,  in  a 
soft,  deliberate  voice,  with  a peculiarly  clear  and  deli- 
cate enunciation.  “ If  God  have  given  us  the  victory, 
why  grudge  His  having  spared  any  other  of  His  crea- 
tures besides  ourselves  ?” 

“ Because  there  are  so  many  the  more  of  them  left 
to  ravish,  burn,  and  slay,”  answered  Synesius.  “ Never- 
theless, I am  not  going  to  argue  with  Augustine.” 

Augustine!  Raphael  looked  intently  at  the  man,  a 
tall,  delicate-featured  personage,  with  a lofty  and  nar- 
row forehead,  scarred  like  his  cheeks  with  the  deep 


440 


HYPATIA. 


furrows  of  many  a doubt  and  woe.  Resolve,  gentle 
but  unbending1,  was  expressed  in  his  thin  close-set  lips 
and  his  clear  quiet  eye ; but  the  calm  of  his  mighty 
countenance  was  the  calm  of  a worn-out  volcano,  over 
which  centuries  must  pass  before  the  earthquake-rents 
be  filled  with  kindly  soil,  and  the  cinder-slopes  grow 
gray  with  grass  and  flowers.  The  Jew’s  thoughts, 
however,  were  soon  turned  into  another  channel  by 
the  hearty  embraces  of  Majoricus  and  his  son. 

u We  have  caught  you  again,  you  truant! ” said  the 
young  tribune;  "you  could  not  escape  us,  you  see, 
after  all.” 

"Rather,”  said  the  father,  "we  owe  him  a second 
debt  of  gratitude  for  a second  deliverance.  We  were 
right  hard  bestead  when  you  rode  up.” 

" Oh,  he  brings  nothing  but  good  with  him  when- 
ever he  appears ; and  then  he  pretends  to  be  a bird  of 
ill-omen,”  said  the  light-hearted  tribune,  putting  his 
armor  to  rights. 

Raphael  was  in  his  secret  heart  not  sorry  to  find 
that  his  old  friends  bore  him  no  grudge  for  his  caprice : 
but  all  he  answered  was — " Pray  thank  any  one  but 
me;  I have,  as  usual,  proved  myself  a fool.  But  what 
brings  you  here,  like  Gods  e Machina  ? It  is  contrary 
to  all  probabilities.  One  would  not  admit  so  astound- 
ing an  incident,  even  in  the  modern  drama.” 

"Contrary  to  none  whatsoever,  my  friend.  We 
found  Augustine  at  Berenice,  in  act  to  set  off  to  Syne- 
sius:  we — one  of  us,  that  is — were  certain  that  you 
would  be  found  with  him ; and  we  decided  on  acting  as 
Augustine’s  guard,  for  none  of  the  dastard  garrison 
dare  stir  out.” 

" One  of  us,”  thought  Raphael — " which  one  ? ” And 
conquering  his  pride,  he  asked,  as  carelessly  as  he 
could,  for  Victoria. 


HYPATIA. 


441 


“ She  is  there  in  the  litter,  poor  child ! ” said  her 
father,  in  a serious  tone. 

“ Surely,  not  ill?” 

“Alas,  either  the  overwrought  excitement  of  months 
of  heroism  broke  down  when  she  found  us  safe  at  last, 
or  some  stroke  from  God.  . . . Who  can  tell  what  I 
may  not  have  deserved  ? But  she  has  been  utterly 
prostrate  in  body  and  mind,  ever  since  we  parted  from 
you  at  Berenice.” 

The  blunt  soldier  little  guessed  the  meaning  of  his 
own  words.  But  Raphael,  as  he  heard,  felt  a pang 
shoot  through  his  heart,  too  keen  for  him  to  discern 
whether  it  sprang  from  joy  or  from  despair. 

“ Come,”  cried  the  cheerful  voice  of  Synesius,  “ come 
Aben-Ezra : you  have  knelt  for  Augustine’s  blessing 
already,  and  now  you  must  enter  into  the  fruition  of 
it.  Come,  you  two  philosophers  must  know  each  other. 
Most  holy,  I entreat  you  to  preach  to  this  friend  of 
mine,  at  once  the  wisest  and  the  foolishest  of  men.” 

“ Only  the  latter,”  said  Raphael ; “ but  open  to  any 
speech  of  Augustine’s,  at  least  when  we  are  safe  home, 
and  game  enough  for  Synesius’s  new  guests  killed.” 

And  turning  away,  he  rode  silent  and  sullen  by  the 
side  of  his  companions,  who  began  at  once  to  consult 
together  as  to  the  plans  of  Majoricus  and  his  soldiers. 

In  spite  of  himself,  Raphael  soon  became  interested 
in  Augustine’s  conversation.  He  entered  into  the  sub- 
ject of  Cyrenian  misrule  and  ruin  as  heartily  and 
shrewdly  as  any  man  of  the  world  and  when  all  the 
rest  were  at  a loss,  the  prompt  practical  hint  which 
cleared  up  the  difficulty  was  certain  to  come  from  him. 
It  was  by  his  advice  that  Majoricus  had  brought  his 
soldiery  hither  ; it  was  his  proposal  that  they  should 
be  employed  for  a fixed  period  in  defending  these  re- 
mote southern  boundaries  of  the  province;  he  checked 


442 


HYPATIA. 


the  impetuosity  of  Synesius,  cheered  the  despair  of 
Majoricus;  appealed  to  the  honor  and  the  Christianity 
of  the  soldiers,  and  seemed  to  have  a word — and  that 
the  right  word — for  every  man;  and  after  a while, 
Aben-Ezra  quite  forgot  the  stiffness  and  deliberation 
of  his  manner,  and  the  quaint  use  of  Scripture  texts  in 
far-fetched  illustrations  of  every  opinion  which  he  pro- 
pounded. It  had  seemed  at  first  a mere  affectation ; 
but  the  arguments  which  it  was  employed  to  enforce 
were  in  themselves  so  moderate  and  so  rational,  that 
Raphael  began  to  feel,  little  by  little,  that  his  apparent 
pedantry  was  only  the  result  of  a wish  to  refer  every 
matter,  even  the  most  vulgar,  to  some  deep  and  divine 
rule  of  right  and  wrong. 

“But  you  forget  all  this  while,  my  friends,”  said 
Majoricus  at  last,  “ the  danger  which  you  incur  by 
sheltering  proclaimed  rebels.” 

“ The  King  of  kings  has  forgiven  our  rebellion,  in 
that  while  He  has  punished  you  by  the  loss  of  your 
lands  and  honors.  He  has  given  you  your  life  for  a 
prey  in  this  city  of  refuge.  It  remains  for  you  to 
bring  forth  worthy  fruits  of  penitence  ; of  which  I 
know  none  better  than  those  which  John  the  Baptist 
commanded  to  the  solitary  of  old,  'Do  no  violence  to 
any  man,  and  be  content  with  your  wages/  ” 

“As  for  rebels  and  rebellion,”  said  Synesius,  “ they 
are  matters  unknown  among  us;  for  where  there  is  no 
king  there  can  be  no  rebellion.  Whosoever  will  help 
us  against  Ausurians  is  loyal  in  our  eyes.  And  as  for 
our  political  creed,  it  is  simple  enough — namely,  that 
the  emperor  never  dies,  and  that  his  name  is  the 
Agamemnon,  who  fought  at  Troy : which  any  of  my 
grooms  will  prove  to  you  syllogistically  enough  to 
satisfy  Augustine  himself.  And  thus — 

“ Agamemnon  was  the  greatest  and  the  best  of 
kings. 


HYPATIA. 


443 


“ The  emperor  is  the  greatest  and  best  of  kings. 

“ Therefore,  Agamemnon  is  the  emperor,  and  con- 
versely.” 

“ It  had  been  well,”  said  Augustine,  with  a grave 
smile,  “ if  some  of  our  friends  had  held  the  same  doc- 
trine, even  at  expense  of  their  logic.” 

“ Or  if,”  answered  Synesius,  “ they  believed  with  us, 
that  the  emperor’s  chamberlain  is  a clever  old  man, 
with  a bald  head  like  my  own,  Ulysses  by  name,  who 
was  rewarded  with  the  prefecture  of  all  lands  north  of 
the  Mediterranean,  for  putting  out  the  Cyclop’s  eye 
two  years  ago.  However,  enough  of  this.  But,  you 
see,  you  are  not  in  any  extreme  danger  of  informers 
and  intriguers.  . . . The  real  difficulty  is,  how  you  will 
be  able  to  obey  Augustine,  by  being  content  with  your 
wages.  For,”  lowering  his  voice,  “you  will  get  liter- 
ally none.” 

“ It  will  be  as  much  as  we  deserve,”  said  the  young 
tribune ; “ but  my  fellows  have  a trick  of  eating ” 

“ They  are  welcome,  then,  to  all  deer  and  ostriches 
which  they  can  catch.  But  I am  not  only  penniless, 
but  reduced  myself  to  live,  like  the  Laestrygons,  on 
meat  and  nothing  else;  all  crops  and  stocks  for  miles 
round  being  either  burnt  or  carried  off.” 

“Enihilo  nihil!”  said  Augustine,  having  nothing 
else  to  say.  But  here  Raphael  woke  up  on  a sudden 
with — 

“ Did  the  Pentapolitan  wheat-ships  go  to  Rome  ? ” 

“No;  Orestes  stopped  them  when  he  stopped  the 
Alexandrian  convoy.” 

“Then  the  Jews  have  the  wheat,  trust  them  for  it; 
and  what  they  have,  I have.  There  are  certain  moneys 
of  mine  lying  at  interest  in  the  seaports,  which  will 
set  that  matter  to  rights  for  a month  or  two.  Do 
you  find  an  escort  to-morrow,  and  I will  find  wheat. 


444 


HYPATIA. 


“ But,  most  generous  of  friends,  I can  neither  repay 
you  interest  nor  principal.” 

“Be  it  so.  I have  spent  so  much  money  during  the 
last  thirty  years  in  doing  nothing  but  evil,  that  it  is 
hard  if  I may  not  at  last  spend  a little  in  doing  good. 
Unless  his  Holiness  of  Hippo  thinks  it  wrong  for  you 
to  accept  the  good-will  of  an  infidel  ? ” 

“ Which  of  these  three,”  said  Augustine,  “ was  neigh- 
bor to  him  who  fell  among  thieves,  but  he  who  had 
mercy  on  him  ? Verily,  my  friend  Raphael  Aben-Ezra, 
thou  art  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God.” 

“ Of  which  God  ? ” asked  Raphael,  slyly. 

“Of  the  God  of  thy  forefather  Abraham,  whom 
thou  shalt  hear  us  worship  this  evening,  if  He  will. 
Synesius,  have  you  a church  wherein  I can  perform  the 
evening  service,  and  give  a word  of  exhortation  to 
these  my  children  ? ” 

S3rnesius  sighed.  “ There  is  a ruin,  which  was  last 
month  a church.” 

“And  is  one  still.  Man  did  not  place  there  the  pres- 
ence of  God,  and  man  cannot  expel  it.” 

And  so  sending  out  hunting-parties  right  and  left  in 
search  of  everything  which  had  animal  life,  and  pick- 
ing up  before  nightfall  a tolerably  abundant  supply  of 
game,  they  went  homeward,  where  Victoria  was  in- 
trusted to  the  care  of  Synesius’s  old  stewardess,  and 
the  soldiery  were  marched  straight  into  the  church; 
while  Synesius’s  servants,  to  whom  the  Latin  service 
would  have  been  unintelligible,  busied  themselves  in 
cooking  the  still  warm  game. 

Strangely  enough  it  sounded  to  Raphael  that  even- 
ing to  hear  among  those  smoke-grimed  pillars  and 
fallen  rafters,  the  grand  old  Hebrew  psalm  of  his  na- 
tion ring  aloft,  to  the  chants,  too,  which  were  said  by 
the  rabbi  to  have  been  used  in  the  Temple- worship  of 


HYPATIA. 


447 


Jerusalem.  . . . They,  ancl  the  invocations,  thanksgiv- 
ing’s, blessings,  the  very  outward  ceremonial  itself, 
were  all  Hebraic,  redolent  of  the  thoughts,  the  words 
of  his  own  ancestors.  That  lesson  from  the  book  of 
Proverbs,  which  Augustine’s  deacon  was  reading  in 
Latin — the  blood  of  the  man  who  wrote  these  words 
was  flowing  in  Aben-Ezra’s  veins.  . . . Was  it  a mis- 
take, an  hypocrisy  ? or  were  they  indeed  worshipping, 
as  they  fancied,  the  Ancient  One  who  spoke  face  to 
face  with  his  forefathers,  the  Archetype  of  man,  the 
friend  of  Abraham  and  of  Israel  ? 

And  now  the  sermon  began;  and  as  Augustine  stood 
for  a moment  in  prayer  in  front  of  the  ruined  altar, 
every  furrow  in  his  worn  face  lit  up  by  a ray  of  moon- 
light which  streamed  in  through  the  broken  roof, 
Raphael  waited  impatiently  for  his  speech.  What 
would  he,  the  refined  dialectician,  the  ancient  teacher 
of  heathen  rhetoric,  the  courtly  and  learned  student, 
the  ascetic,  celibate  theosopher,  have  to  say  to  those 
coarse,  war-worn  soldiers,  Thracians  and  Markmen, 
Gauls  and  Belgians,  who  sat  watching  there,  with 
those  sad  earnest  faces  ? What  one  thought  or  feel- 
ing in  common  could  there  be  between  Augustine  and 
his  congregation  ? 

At  last,  after  signing  himself  with  the  cross,  he 
began.  The  subject  was  one  of  the  psalms  which  had 
just  been  read — a battle  psalm,  concerning  Moab  and 
Amalek,  and  the  older  border  wars  of  Palestine.  What 
would  he  make  of  that  ? 

He  seemed  to  start  lamely  enough,  in  spite  of  the 
exquisite  grace  of  his  voice,  and  manner,  and  language, 
and  the  epigrammatic  terseness  of  every  sentence.  He 
spent  some  minutes  over  the  inscription  of  the  psalm 
— allegorized  it — made  it  mean  something  which  it 
never  did  mean  in  the  writer’s  mind,  and  which  it,  as 


448 


HYPATIA. 


Raphael  well  knew,  never  could  mean,  for  his  inter- 
pretation was  founded  on  a sheer  mistranslation.  He 
punned  on  the  Latin  version — derived  the  meaning'  of 
Hebrew  words  from  Latin  etymologies.  . . . And  as 
he  went  on  with  the  psalm  itself,  the  common  sense  of 
David  seemed  to  evaporate  in  mysticism.  The  most 
fantastic  and  far-fetched  illustrations,  drawn  from  the 
commonest  objects,  alternate  with  mysterious  theo- 
sophic  dogma.  Where  was  that  learning  for  which 
he  was  so  famed  ? Where  was  that  reverence  for  the 
old  Hebrew  Scriptures  which  he  professed  ? He  was 
treating  David  as  ill  as  Hypatia  used  to  treat  Homer 
— worse  even  than  old  Philo  did,  when  in  the  home  life 
of  the  old  Patriarchs,  and  in  the  mighty  acts  of  Moses 
and  Joshua,  he  could  find  nothing  but  spiritual  alle- 
gories wherewith  to  pamper  the  private  experience  of 
the  secluded  theosophist.  And  Raphael  felt  very  much 
inclined  to  get  up  and  go  away,  and  still  more  in- 
clined to  say  with  a smile,  in  his  haste,  “All  men  are 
liars.”  . . . 

And  yet,  what  an  illustration  that  last  one  was! 
No  mere  fancy,  but  a real  deep  glance  into  the  work- 
ing of  the  material  universe,  as  symbolic  of  the  spiritual 
and  unseen  one.  And  not  drawn,  as  Hypatia’s  were, 
exclusively  from  sublime  or  portentous  phenomenon, 
but  from  some  dog,  or  kettle,  or  fishwife,  with  a homely 
insight  worthy  of  old  Socrates  himself.  How  personal 
he  was  becoming,  boo.  ...  No  long  bursts  of  declama- 
tion, but  dramatic  dialogue  and  interrogation,  by-hints 
and  unexpected  hits  at  one  and  the  other  most  com- 
monplace soldier’s  failing.  . . . And  yet  each  pithy 
rebuke  was  put  in  a universal,  comprehensive  form, 
which  made  Raphael  himself  wince — which  might,  he 
thought,  have  made  any  man,  or  woman  either,  wince 
in  like  manner.  Well,  whether  or  not  Augustine  knew 


HYPATIA. 


449 


truths  for  all  men,  he  at  least  knew  sins  of  all  men, 
and  for  himself  as  well  as  his  hearers.  There  was  no 
denying  that.  He  was  a real  man,  right  or  wrong. 
What  he  rebuked  in  others,  he  had  felt  in  himself,  and 
fought  it  to  the  death  grip,  as  the  flash  and  quiver  of 
that  worn  face  proclaimed.  . . . But  yet,  why  were  the 
Edomites,  by  an  utterly  mistaken  pun  on  their  name, 
to  signify  one  sort  of  sin,  and  the  Ammonites  another, 
and  the  Amalekites  another?  What  had  that  to  do 
with  the  old  psalm  ? What  had  it  to  do  with  the 
present  auditory  ? Was  not  this  the  wildest  and  low- 
est form  of  that  unreal,  subtilizing,  mystic  pedantry, 
of  which  he  had  sickened  long  ago  in  Hypatia’s  lecture- 
room,  till  he  fled  to  Bran,  the  dog,  for  honest  practi- 
cal realities  ? 

No.  . . . Gradually,  as  Augustine’s  hints  became 
more  practical  and  pointed,  Raphael  saw  that  there 
was  in  his  mind  a most  real  and  organic  connection, 
true  or  false,  in  what  seemed  at  first  mere  arbitrary 
allegory.  Amalekites,  personal  sins,  Ausurian  robbers 
and  ravishers,  were  to  him  only  so  many  different 
forms  of  one  and  the  same  evil.  He  who  helped  any 
of  them  fought  against  the  righteous  God;  he  who 
fought  against  them  fought  for  that  God;  but  he 
must  conquer  the  Amalekites  within,  if  he  expected  to 
conquer  the  Amalekites  without. 

Could  the  legionaries  permanently  put  down  the 
lust  and  greed  around  them,  while  their  own  hearts 
were  enslaved  to  lust  and  greed  within?  Would  they 
not  be  helping  it  by  example,  while  the}7  pretended  to 
crush  it  by  sword  strokes?  Was  it  not  a mockery, 
an  hypocrisy  ? Could  God’s  blessing  be  on  it  ? Could 
they  restore  unity  and  peace  to  the  country  while  there 
was  neither  unity  nor  peace  within  them  ? What  had 
produced  the  helplessness  of  the  people,  the  imbecility 
29 


450 


HYPATIA. 


of  the  military,  but  inward  helplessness,  inward  weak- 
ness ? They  were  weak  against  Moors,  because  they 
were  weak  against  enemies  more  deadly  than  Moors. 
How  could  they  fight  for  God  outwardly,  while  they 
were  fighting  against  Him  inwardly  ? He  would  not 
go  forth  with  their  hosts.  How  could  He,  when  He 
was  not  among  their  hosts  ? He,  a spirit,  must  dwell 
in  their  spirits.  . . . And  then  the  shout  of  a King 
would  be  among  them  and  one  of  them  should  chase  a 
thousand.  ...  Or  if  not — if  both  people  and  soldiers 
require  further  chastening  and  humbling — what  mat- 
ter, provided  that  they  were  chastened  and  humbled  ? 
What  matter  if  their  faces  were  confounded,  if  they 
were  thereby  driven  to  seek  His  Name,  who  alone  was 
the  Truth,  the  Light,  and  the  Life  ? What  if  they 
were  slain  ? Let  them  have  conquered  the  inward 
enemies,  what  matter  to  them  if  the  outward  enemies 
seemed  to  prevail  for  a moment  ? They  should  be 
recompensed  at  the  resurrection  of  the  just,  when 
death  was  swallowed  up  in  victory.  It  would  be  seen 
then  who  had  really  conquered  in  the  eyes  of  the  just 
God — they,  God’s  ministers,  the  defenders  of  peace 
and  justice,  or  the  Ausurians,  the  enemies  thereof.  . . . 
And  then,  by  some  quaintest  turn  of  fancy,  he  intro- 
duced a word  of  pity  and  hope,  even  for  the  wild  Moor- 
ish robbers.  It  might  be  good  for  them  to  have  suc- 
ceeded thus  far;  they  might  learn  from  their  Christian 
captives,  purified  by  affliction,  truths  which  those  cap- 
tives had  forgotten  in  prosperity.  And,  again,  it 
might  be  good  for  them,  as  well  as  for  Christians,  to 
be  confounded  and  made  like  chaff  before  the  wind, 
and  so  they  too  might  learn  His  name.  . . . And  so 
on,  through  and  in  spite  of  all  conceits,  allegories, 
overstrained  interpretations,  Augustine  went  on  evolv- 
ing from  the  Psalms,  and  from  the  past,  and  from  the 


HYPATIA. 


451 


future,  the  assertion  of  a Living*,  Present  God,  the 
eternal  helper  and  deliverer  of  those  who  were  en- 
slaved and  crushed  thereby  in  soul  or  body.  ...  It 
was  all  most  strange  to  Raphael.  . . . Strange  in  its 
utter  unlikeness  to  any  teaching,  Platonist  or  Hebrew, 
which  he  had  ever  heard  before,  and  stranger  still  in 
its  agreement  with  those  teachings;  in  the  instinctive 
ease  with  which  it  seemed  to  unite  and  justify  them 
all  by  the  talisman  of  some  one  idea — and  what  that 
might  be,  his  Jewish  prejudices  could  not  prevent  his 
seeing,  and  yet  would  not  allow  him  to  acknowledge. 
But,  howsoever  he  might  redden  with  Hebrew  pride; 
howsoever  he  might  long  to  persuade  himself  that 
Augustine  was  building  up  a sound  and  right  practi- 
cal structure  on  the  foundation  of  a sheer  lie;  he  could 
not  help  watching,  at  first  with  envy,  and  then  with 
honest  pleasure,  the  faces  of  the  rough  soldiers,  as 
they  gradually  lightened  up  into  fixed  attention,  into 
cheerful  and  solemn  resolve. 

“ What  wonder  ? ” said  Raphael  to  himself,  “ what 
wonder,  after  all  ? He  has  been  speaking  to  these 
wild  beasts  as  to  sages  and  saints;  he  has  been  telling 
them  that  God  is  as  much  with  them  as  with  prophets 
and  psalmists.  ...  I wonder  if  Hypatia,  with  all  her 
beaut}^,  could  have  touched  their  hearts  as  he  has 
done  ? ” 

And  when  Raphael  rose  at  the  end  of  this  strange 
discourse,  he  felt  more  like  an  old  Hebrew  than  he 
had  done  since  he  sat  upon  his  .nurse’s  knee,  and  heard 
legends  about  Solomon  and  the  Queen  of  Sheba.  What 
if  Augustine  were  right  after  all  ? What  if  the  Jeho- 
vah of  the  old  Scriptures  were  not  merely  the  national 
patron  of  the  children  of  Abraham,  as  the  rabbis  held; 
not  merely,  as  Philo  held,  the  Divine  Wisdom  which 
inspired  a few  elect  sages,  even  among  the  heathen; 


452 


1IYPATIA. 


but  the  Lord  of  the  whole  earth,  and  of  the  nations 
thereof  ? And  suddenly,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
passages  from  the  psalms  and  prophets  flashed  across 
him,  which  seemed  to  assert  this.  What  else  did  that 
whole  book  of  Daniel  and  history  of  Nebuchadnezzar 
mean — if  not  that  ? Philosophic  latitudinarianism 
had  long  ago  cured  him  of  the  rabbinical  notion  of  the 
Babylonian  conqueror  as  an  incarnate  fiend,  devoted 
to  Topliet,  like  Sennacherib  before  him.  He  had  long 
in  private  admired  the  man,  as  a magnificent  human 
character,  a fairer  one,  in  his  eyes,  than  either  Alex- 
ander or  Julius  Caesar.  . . . What  if  Augustine  had 
given  him  a hint  which  might  justify  his  admiration  ? 
. . . But  more.  . . . What  if  Augustine  were  right  in 
going  even  further  than  Philo  and  Hypatia  ? What 
if  this  same  Jehovah,  Wisdom,  Logos,  call  Him  what 
they  might,  were  actually  the  God  of  the  spirits,  as 
well  as  of  the  bodies  of  all  flesh  ? What  if  He  was  as 
near — Augustine  said  that  he  was — to  the  hearts  of 
those  wild  Markmen,  Gauls,  Thracians,  as  to  Augus- 
tine’s own  heart  ? What  if  He  were — Augustine  said 
He  was — yearning  after,  enlightening,  leading  home 
to  Himself,  the  souls  of  the  poorest,  the  most  brutal, 
the  most  sinful  ? What  if  He  loved  man  as  man  and 
not  merely  one  favored  race  or  one  favored  class  of 
minds  ? . . . And  in  the  light  of  that  hypothesis,  that 
strange  story  of  the  Cross  of  Calvary  seemed  not  so 
impossible  after  all.  . . . But  then,  celibacy  and  as- 
ceticism, utterly  non-human  as  they  were,  what  had 
they  to  do  with  the  theory  of  a human  God  ? 

And  filled  with  many  questionings,  Raphael  was  not 
sorry  to  have  the  matter  brought  to  an  issue  that 
very  evening  in  Synesius’s  sitting-room.  Majoricus, 
in  his  blunt,  soldier-like  way,  set  Raphael  and  Augus- 
tine at  each  other  without  circumlocution;  and  Ra- 


HYPATIA. 


453 


phael,  after  trying  to  smile  and  pooh-pooh  away  the 
subject,  was  tempted  to  make  a jest  on  a seeming 
fallacious  conceit  of  Augustine’s — found  it  more  diffi- 
cult than  he  thought  to  trip  up  the  serious  and  wary 
logician,  lost  his  temper  a little — a sign,  perhaps,  of 
returning  health  in  a skeptic — and  soon  found  himself 
fighting  desperately,  with  Synesius  backing  him,  ap- 
parently for  the  mere  pleasure  of  seeing  a battle,  and 
Majoricus  making  him  more  and  more  cross  by  the 
implicit  dogmatic  faith  with  which  he  hewed  at  one 
Gordian  knot  after  another,  till  Augustine  had  to  save 
himself  from  his  friends  by  tripping  the  good  prefect 
gently  up,  and  leaving  him  miles  behind  the  disputants, 
who  argued  on  and  on,  till  broad  daylight  shone  in, 
and  the  sight  of  the  desolation  below  recalled  all 
parties  to  more  material  weapons,  and  sterner  war- 
fare. 

But  little  thought  Raphael  Aben-Ezra,  as  he  sat 
there,  calling  up  every  resource  of  his  wit  and  learn- 
ing, in  the  hope,  half  malicious,  half  honestly  cautious, 
of  upsetting  the  sage  of  Hippo,  and  forgetting  all 
heaven  and  earth  in  the  delight  of  battle  with  his 
peers,  that  in  a neighboring  chamber,  her  tender  limbs 
outspread  upon  the  floor,  her  face  buried  in  her  dishev- 
elled locks,  lay  Victoria,  wrestling  all  night  long  for 
him  in  prayer  and  bitter  tears,  as  the  murmur  of  busy 
voices  reached  her  eager  ears,  longing  in  vain  to  catch 
the  sense  of  words,  on  which  hung  now  her  hopes  and 
bliss — how  utterly  and  entirely,  she  had  never  yet 
confessed  to  herself,  though  she  dare  confess  it  to 
that  Son  of  Man  to  whom  she  prayed,  as  to  One  who 
felt  with  tenderness  and  insight  beyond  that  of  a 
brother,  a father,  even  of  a mother,  for  her  maiden’s 
blushes  and  her  maiden’s  woes. 


454 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

PANDEMONIUM. 

But  where  was  Philammon  all  that  week  ? 

For  the  first  day  or  two  of  his  imprisonment  he  had 
raved  like  some  wild  beast  entrapped.  His  new-found 
purposes  and  energy,  thus  suddenly  dammed  hack  and 
checked,  boiled  up  in  frantic  rage.  He  tore  at  the 
bars  of  his  prison : he  rolled  himself,  shrieking,  on  the 
floor.  He  called  in  vain  on  Hypatia,  on  Pelagia,  on 
Arsenius — on  all  but  God.  PiTiy  he  could  not,  and 
dare  not;  for  to  whom  was  he  to  pray  ? To  the  stars  ? 
— to  the  Ab3rsses  and  the  Eternities  ? . . . 

Alas!  as  Augustine  said  once,  bitterly  enough,  of 
his  own  Manichsean  teachers,  Hypatia  had  taken 
away  the  living  God,  and  given  him  instead  the  four 
Elements.  . . . And  in  utter  bewilderment  and  hope- 
less terror  he  implored  the  pity  of  every  guard  and 
jailer  who  passed  along  the  corridor,  and  conjured 
them,  as  brothers,  fathers,  men  to  help  him.  Moved 
at  once  by  his  agony  and  by  his  exceeding  beauty,  the 
rough  Thracians,  who  knew  enough  of  their  employer’s 
character  to  have  little  difficulty  in  believing  his  victim 
to  be  innocent,  listened  to  him  and  questioned  him. 
But  when  they  offered  the  very  help  which  he  implored, 
and  asked  him  to  tell  his  story,  the  poor  boy’s  tongue 
clave  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth.  How  could  he  publish 
his  sister’s  shame  ? And  yet  she  was  about  to  publish 
it  herself!  . . . And  instead  of  words,  he  met  their 
condolences  with  fresh  agonies,  till  they  gave  him  up 


HYPATIA. 


455 


as  mad,  and,  tired  by  his  violence,  compelled  him,  with 
blows  and  curses,  to  remain  quiet : and  so  the  week 
wore  out,  in  dull  and  stupefied  despair,  which  trem- 
bled on  the  very  edge  of  idiocy.  Night  and  day  were 
alike  to  him.  The  food  which  was  thrust  in  through 
his  gate  remained  untasted ; hour  after  hour,  day  after 
day  he  sat  upon  the  ground,  his  head  buried  in  his 
hands,  half-dozing  from  mere  exhaustion  of  body  and 
mind.  Why  should  he  care  to  stir,  to  eat,  to  live  ? He 
had  but  one  purpose  in  heaven  and  earth,  and  that 
one  purpose  was  impossible. 

At  last  his  cell-door  grated  on  its  hinges.  “ Up,  my 
mad  youth!”  cried  a rough  voice.  “Up  and  thank 
the  favor  of  the  gods,  and  the  bounty  of  our  noble — 
ahem ! prefect.  To-day  he  gives  freedom  to  all  pris- 
oners. And  I suppose  a prett3r  boy  like  you  may  go 
about  your  business,  as  well  as  uglier  rascals!” 

Philainmon  looked  up  in  the  jailer’s  face  with  a dim 
half-comprehension  of  his  meaning. 

“ Do  you  hear  ? ” cried  the  man,  with  a curse.  “ You 
are  free.  Jump  up,  or  I shut  the  door  again,  and  your 
one  chance  is  over.” 

“ Did  she  dance  Venus  Anadyomene  ? ” 

“She!  Who?” 

“ My  sister ! Pelagia ! ” 

“ Heaven  only  knows  what  she  has  not  danced  in 
her  time ! But  they  say  she  dances  to-day  once  more. 
Quick!  out,  or  I shall  not  be  ready  in  time  for  the 
sports.  They  begin  an  hour  hence.  Free  admission 
into  the  theatre  to-day  for  all — rogues  and  honest 
men,  Christians  and  heathens.  Curse  the  boy!  he’s 
as  mad  as  ever.” 

So  indeed  Philammon  seemed  ; for  springing  sud- 
denly to  his  feet,  he  rushed  out  past  the  jailer,  upset- 
ting him  into  the  corridor,  and  fled  wildly  from  the 


456 


HYPATIA. 


prison  among-  the  crowd  of  liberated  ruffians,  ran  from 
the  prison  home,  from  home  to  the  baths,  from  the 
baths  to  the  theatre,  and  was  soon  pushing  his  way, 
regardless  of  etiquette,  toward  the  lower  tiers  of 
benches,  in  order,  he  hardly  knew  why,  to  place  him- 
self as  near  as  possible  to  the  very  sight  which  he 
dreaded  and  abhorred. 

As  fate  would  have  it,  the  passage  by  which  he  had 
entered  opened  close  to  the  prefect's  chair  of  state, 
where  sat  Orestes,  gorgeous  in  his  robes  of  office,  and 
by  him — to  Philammon's  surprise  and  horror — Hypatia 
herself. 

More  beautiful  than  ever,  her  forehead  sparkling, 
like  Juno's  own,  with  a lofty  tiara  of  jewels,  her  white 
Ionic  robe  half-hidden  by  a crimson  shawl,  there  sat 
the  vestal,  the  philosopher.  What  did  she  there  ? But 
the  boy's  eager  eyes,  accustomed  but  too  well  to  note 
every  light  and  shade  of  feeling  which  crossed  that 
face,  saw  in  a moment  how  wan  and  haggard  was  its 
expression.  She  wore  a look  of  constraint,  of  half- 
terrified  self-resolve,  as  of  a martyr;  and  yet  not  an 
undoubting  martyr : for  as  Orestes  turned  his  head  at 
the  stir  of  Philammon's  intrusion,  and  flashing  with 
anger  at  the  sight,  motioned  him  fiercely  back,  Hypatia 
turned  too,  and  as  her  eyes  met  her  pupil's,  she  blushed 
crimson,  and  started,  and  seemed  in  act  to  motion  him 
back  also;  and  then,  recollecting  herself,  whispered 
something  to  Orestes  which  quieted  his  wrath,  and 
composed  herself,  or  rather  sunk  into  her  place  again, 
as  one  who  was  determined  to  abide  the  worst. 

A knot  of  gay  young  gentlemen,  Philammon's  fel- 
low-students, pulled  him  down  among  them,  with  wel- 
come and  laughter;  and  before  he  could  collect  his 
thoughts,  the  curtain  in  front  of  the  stage  had  fallen, 
and  the  sport  began. 


HYPATIA. 


457 


The  scene  represented  a background  of  desert  moun- 
tains, and  on  the  stage  itself,  before  a group  of  tem- 
porary huts,  stood  huddling  together  the  black  Libyan 
prisoners,  some  fifty  men,  women,  and  children,  bediz- 
ened with  gaudy  feathers  and  girdles  of  tasselled 
leather,  brandishing  their  spears  and  targets,  and 
glaring  out  with  white  eyes  on  the  strange  scene  be- 
fore them,  in  childish  awe  and  wonder. 

Along  the  front  of  the  stage  a wattled  battlement 
had  been  erected,  while  below,  the  hyposcenium  had 
been  painted  to  represent  rocks,  thus  completing  the 
rough  imitation  of  a village  among  the  Libyan  hills. 

Amid  breathless  silence,  a herald  advanced,  and 
proclaimed  that  these  were  prisoners  taken  in  arms 
against  the  Roman  senate  and  people,  and  therefore 
worthy  of  immediate  death  ; but  that  the  prefect,  in 
his  exceeding  clemency  toward  them,  and  especial  anxi- 
ety to  afford  the  greatest  possible  amusement  to  the 
obedient  and  loyal  citizens  of  Alexandria,  had  deter- 
mined, instead  of  giving  them  at  once  to  the  beasts, 
to  allow  them  to  fight  for  their  lives,  promising  to  the 
survivors  a free  pardon  if  they  acquitted  themselves 
valiantly. 

The  poor  wretches  on  the  stage,  when  this  pro- 
clamation was  translated  to  them,  set  up  a barbaric 
yell  of  joy,  and  brandished  their  spears  and  targets 
more  fiercely  than  ever. 

But  their  joy  was  short.  The  trumpets  sounded  the 
attack;  a body  of  gladiators,  equal  in  number  to  the 
savages,  marched  out  from  one  of  the  two  great  side- 
passages,  made  their  obeisance  to  the  applauding 
spectators,  and  planting  their  scaling  ladders  against 
the  front  of  the  stage,  mounted  to  the  attack. 

The  Libyans  fought  like  tigers;  yet  from  the  first 
Hypatia,  and  Philammon  also,  could  see  that  their 


458 


HYPATIA. 


promised  chance  of  life  was  a mere  mockery.  Their 
light  darts  and  naked  limbs  were  no  match  for  the 
heavy  swords  and  complete  armor  of  their  brutal  as- 
sailants, who  endured  carelessly  a storm  of  blows  and 
thrusts  on  heads  and  faces  protected  by  visored 
helmets : yet  so  fierce  was  the  valor  of  the  Libyans, 
that  even  they  recoiled  twice,  and  twice  the  scaling- 
ladders  were  hurled  down  again,  while  more  than  one 
gladiator  lay  below,  rolling  in  the  death  agony. 

And  then  burst  forth  the  sleeping  devil  in  the  hearts 
of  that  great  brutalized  multitude.  Yell  upon  yell  of 
savage  triumph,  and  still  more  savage  disappointment 
rang  from  every  tier  of  that  vast  ring  of  seats,  at  each 
blow  and  parry,  onslaught  and  repulse;  and  Philam- 
mon  saw,  with  horror  and  surprise,  that  luxury,  refine- 
ment, philosophic  culture  itself,  were  no  safe-guards 
against  the  infection  of  blood-thirstiness.  Gay  and 
delicate  ladies,  whom  he  had  seen  three  days  before 
simpering  delight  at  Hypatia’s  heavenward  aspira- 
tions, and  some,  too,  whom  he  seemed  to  recollect  in 
Christian  churches,  sprang  from  their  seats,  waved 
their  hands  and  handkerchiefs,  and  clapped  and  shouted 
to  the  gladiators.  For,  alas ! there  was  no  doubt  as 
to  which  side  the  favor  of  the  spectators  inclined. 
With  taunts,  jeers,  applause,  entreaties,  the  hired 
ruffians  were  urged  on  to  their  work  of  blood.  The 
poor  wretches  heard  no  voice  raised  in  their  favor; 
nothing  but  contempt,  hatred,  eager  lust  of  blood, 
glared  from  those  thousands  of  pitiless  eyes;  and, 
broken-hearted,  despairing,  they  flagged  and  drew 
back  one  by  one.  A shout  of  triumph  greeted  the 
gladiators  as  they  climbed  over  the  battlement,  and 
gained  a footing  on  the  stage.  The  wretched  blacks 
broke  up,  and  fled  wildly  from  corner  to  corner,  look- 
ing vainly  for  an  outlet. 


HYPATIA. 


459 


And  then  began  a butchery.  . . . Some  fifty  men, 
women,  and  children  were  cooped  together  in  that 
narrow  space.  . . . And  yet  Hypatia’s  countenance 
did  not  falter.  Why  should  it  ? What  were  their 
numbers,  beside  the  thousands  who  had  perished  year 
by  year  for  centuries,  by  that  and  far  worse  deaths,  in 
the  amphitheatres  of  that  empire,  for  that  faith  which 
she  was  vowed  to  re-establish.  It  was  part  of  the 
great  system  and  she  must  endure  it. 

Not  that  she  did  not  feel;  for  she,  too,  was  woman; 
and  her  heart,  raised  far  above  the  brutal  excitement 
of  the  multitude,  lay  calmly  open  to  the  poignant 
stings  of  pity.  Again  and  again  she  was  in  the  act 
to  entreat  mercy  for  some  shrieking  woman  or  strug- 
gling child ; but  before  her  lips  could  shape  the  words, 
the  blow  had  fallen,  or  the  wretch  was  whirled  away 
from  her  sight  in  the  dense  undistinguishable  mass  of 
slayers  and  slain.  Yes,  she  had  begun,  and  she  must 
follow  to  the  end.  . . . And,  after  all,  what  were  the 
lives  of  those  few  semi-brutes,  returning  thus  a few 
years  earlier  to  the  clay  from  which  they  sprang,  com- 
pared with  the  regeneration  of  a world  ? . . . And  it 
would  be  over  in  a few  minutes  more,  and  that  black 
writhing  heap  be  still  forever,  and  the  curtain  fall.  . . . 
And  then  for  Venus  Anadyomene,  and  art,  and  joy, 
and  peace,  and  the  graceful  wisdom  and  beauty  of  the 
old  Greek  art,  calming  and  civilizing  all  hearts,  and 
softening  them  into  pure  devotion  for  the  immortal 
myths,  the  immortal  deities,  who  had  inspired  their 
forefathers  in  the  glorious  days  of  old.  . . . But  still 
the  black  heap'  writhed;  and  she  looked  away,  up, 
down,  and  round,  everywhere,  to  avoid  the  sickening 
sight  and  her  eye  caught  Philammon’s  gazing  at  her 
with  looks  of  horror  and  disgust.  ...  A thrill  of 
shame  rushed  through  her  heart,  and  blushing  scarlet, 
she  sank  her  head,  and  whispered  to  Orestes — 


460 


HYPATIA. 


“ Have  mercy ! spare  the  rest ! ” 

“Nay,  fairest  vestal!  The  mob  has  tasted  blood, 
and  they  must  have  their  fill  of  it,  or  they  will  turn 
on  us  for  aught  I know.  Nothing  so  dangerous  as  to 
check  a brute,  whether  he  be  horse,  dog,  or  man,  when 
once  his  spirit  is  up.  Ha!  there  is  a fugitive!  How 
well  the  little  rascal  runs.” 


He  saw  a gladiator  close  upon  him. 

As  he  spoke,  a boy,  the  only  survivor,  leaped  from 
the  stage,  and  rushed  across  the  orchestra  toward 
them,  followed  by  a rough  cur-dog. 

“ You  shall  have  this  youth,  if  he  reaches  us.” 

Hypatia  watched  breathlessly.  The  boy  had  just 
arrived  at  the  altar  in  front  of  the  orchestra,  when  he 
saw  a gladiator  close  upon  him.  The  ruffian’s  arm 
was  raised  to  strike,  when,  to  the  astonishment  of  the 


HYPATIA. 


461 


whole  theatre,  boy  and  dog-  turned  valiantly  to  hay, 
and  leaping  on  the  gladiator,  dragged  him  between 
them  to  the  ground.  The  triumph  was  momentary. 
The  uplifted  hands,  the  shout  of  “ Spare  him ! ” came 
too  late.  The  man,  as  he  lay,  buried  his  sword  in  the 
slender  body  of  the  child,  and  then  rising,  walked 
coolly  back  to  the  side  passages,  while  the  poor  cur 
stood  over  the  little  corpse,  licking  his  hands  and  face, 
and  making  the  whole  building  ring  with  his  doleful 
cries.  The  attendants  entered,  and  striking  their 
hooks  into  corpse  after  corpse,  dragged  them  out  of 
sight,  marking  their  path  by  long  red  furrows  in  the 
sand;  while  the  dog  followed,  until  his  inauspicious 
howling  died  away  down  distant  passages. 

Philammon  felt  sick  and  giddy,  and  half  rose  to  es- 
cape. But  Pelagia!  . . . No — he  must  sit  it  out,  and 
see  the  worst,  if  worse  than  this  were  possible.  He 
looked  round.  The  people  were  coolly  sipping  wine 
and  eating  cakes,  while  they  chatted  admiringly  about 
the  beauty  of  the  great  curtain,  which  had  fallen  and 
hidden  the  stage,  and  represented,  on  a ground  of  deep 
blue  sea,  Europa  carried  by  the  bull  across  the  Bos- 
phorus, while  Nereids  and  Tritons  played  around. 

A single  flute  within  the  curtain  began  to  send  forth 
luscious  strains,  deadened  and  distant,  as  if  through 
far-off  glens  and  woodlands;  and  from  the  side  pas- 
sages issued  three  Graces,  led  by  Peitho,  the  goddess 
of  persuasion,  bearing  a herald's  staff  in  her  hand. 
She  advanced  to  the  altar  in  the  centre  of  the  orches- 
tra, and  informed  the  spectators  that,  during  the  ab- 
sence of  Ares  in  aid  of  a certain  great  military  expedi- 
tion, which  was  shortly  to  decide  the  diadem  of  Borne, 
and  the  liberty,  prosperity,  and  supremacy  of  Egypt 
and  Alexandria,  Aphrodite  had  returned  to  her  lawful 
allegiance,  and  submitted  for  the  time  being  to  the 


462 


HYPATIA. 


commands  of  her  husband,  Hephaestus;  that  he,  as 
the  deity  of  artificers,  felt  a peculiar  interest  in  the 
welfare  of  the  city  of  Alexandria,  the  workshop  of  the 
world,  and  had,  as  a sign  of  his  especial  favor,  pre- 
vailed upon  his  fair  spouse  to  exhibit  for  this  once,  her 
beauties  to  the  assembled  populace,  and,  in  the  un- 
spoken poetry  of  motion,  to  represent  to  them  the 
emotion  with  which,  as  she  arose  new-born  from  the 
sea,  she  first  surveyed  that  fair  expanse  of  heaven  and 
earth  of  which  she  now  reigned  undisputed  queen. 

A shout  of  rapturous  applause  greeted  this  an- 
nouncement, and  forthwith  limped  from  the  opposite 
slip  the  lame  deity  himself,  hammer  and  pincers  on 
shoulder,  followed  by  a train  of  gigantic  Cyclops,  who 
bore  on  their  shoulders  various  pieces  of  gilded  metal 
work. 

Hephaestus,  who  was  intended  to  supply  the  comic 
element  in  the  vast  pantomimic  pageant,  shambled 
forward  with  studied  uncouthness,  amid  roars  of 
laughter;  surveyed  the  altar  with  ludicrous  contempt; 
raised  his  mighty  hammer,  shivered  it  to  pieces  with  a 
single  blow,  and  beckoned  to  his  attendants  to  carry 
off  the  fragments,  and  replace  it  with  something  more 
fitting  for  his  august  spouse. 

With  wonderful  quickness  the  metal  open-work  was 
put  in  its  place,  and  fitted  together,  forming  a frame 
of  coral  branches  intermingled  with  dolphins,  Nereids, 
and  Tritons.  Four  gigantic  Cyclops  then  approached, 
staggering  under  the  weight  of  a circular  slab  of 
green  marble,  polished  to  a perfect  mirror,  which  they 
placed  on  the  framework.  The  Graces  wreathed  its 
circumference  with  garlands  of  sea-weed,  shells,  and 
corallines,  and  the  mimic  sea  was  complete. 

Peitho  and  the  Graces  retired  a few  steps,  and 
grouped  themselves  with  the  Cyclops,  whose  grimed 


HYPATIA. 


463 


and  brawny  limbs,  and  hideous  one-eyed  masks,  threw 
out  in  striking  contrast  the  delicate  hue  and  grace  of 
the  beautiful  maiden  figures;  while  Hephaestus  turned 
toward  the  curtain,  and  seemed  to  await  impatiently 
the  forthcoming  of  the  goddess. 

Every  lip  was  breathless  with  expectation  as  the 
flutes  swelled  louder  and  nearer;  horns  and  cymbals 
took  up  the  harmony;  and,  to  a triumphant  burst  of 
music,  the  curtain  rose,  and  a simultaneous  shout  of 
delight  burst  from  ten  thousand  voices. 

The  scene  behind  represented  a magnificent  temple, 
half-hidden  in  an  artificial  wood  of  tropic  trees  and 
shrubs, which  filled  the  stage.  Fauns  and  Dryads  peeped 
laughing  from  among  their  stems,  and  gorgeous  birds, 
tethered  by  unseen  threads,  fluttered  and  sang  among 
their  branches.  In  the  centre  an  over- arching  avenue 
of  palms  led  from  the  temple  doors  to  the  front  of  the 
stage,  from  which  the  mimic  battlements  had  disap- 
peared, and  had  been  replaced,  in  those  few  moments, 
by  a broad  slope  of  smooth  greensward,  leading  down 
into  the  orchestra,  and  fringed  with  myrtles,  roses, 
apple-trees,  poppies,  and  crimson  hyacinths,  stained 
with  the  life-blood  of  Adonis. 

The  folding-doors  of  the  temple  opened  slowly;  the 
crash  of  instruments  resounded  from  within;  and  pre- 
ceded by  the  musicians,  came  forth  the  triumph  of 
Aphrodite,  and  passed  down  the  slope,  and  down  the 
outer  ring  of  the  orchestra. 

A splendid  car,  drawn  by  white  oxen,  bore  the  rarest 
and  gaudiest  of  foreign  flowers  and  fruits,  which  young 
girls,  dressed  as  Hours  and  Seasons,  strewed  in  front 
of  the  procession  and  among  the  spectators. 

A long  line  of  beautiful  youths  and  maidens,  crowned 
with  garlands,  and  robed  in  scarfs  of  purple  gauze, 
followed  by  two  and  two.  Each  pair  carried  or  led  a 


464 


HYPATIA. 


pair  of  wild  animals,  captives  of  the  conquering  might 
of  Beauty. 

Foremost  was  borne,  on  the  wrists  of  the  actors, 
the  birds  especially  saered  to  the  goddess — doves  and 
sparrows,  wry-necks  and  swallows;  and  a pair  of  gi- 
gantic Indian  tortoises,  each  ridden  by  a lovely  nymph, 
showed  that  Orestes  had  not  forgotten  one  wish,  at 
least,  of  his  intended  bride. 

Then  followed  strange  birds  from  India,  parakeets, 
peacocks,  pheasants,  silver  and  golden;  bustards  and 
ostriches;  the  latter  bestridden  each  by  a tiny  cupid, 
were  led  on  in  golden  leashes,  followed  by  antelopes 
and  oryxes,  elks  from  beyond  the  Danube,  four-horned 
rams  from  Isles  of  the  Hyperborean  Ocean,  and  the 
strange  hybrid  of  the  Libyan  hills,  believed  by  all 
spectators  to  be  half-bull,  half-liorse.  And  then  a 
murmur  of  delighted  awe  ran  through  the  theatre,  as 
bears  and  leopards,  lions  and  tigers,  fettered  in  heavy 
chains  of  gold,  and  made  gentle  for  the  occasion  by 
narcotics,  paced  sedately  down  the  slope,  obedient  to 
their  beautiful  guides ; while  behind  them,  the  unwieldy 
bulk  of  two  double-horned  rhinoceroses,  from  the  far 
south,  was  overtopped  by  the  long  slender  necks  and 
large  soft  eyes  of  a pair  of  giraffes,  such  as  had  not 
been  seen  in  Alexandria  for  more  than  fifty  years. 

A cry  arose  of  “ Orestes ! Orestes ! Health  to  the 
illustrious  prefect ! Thanks  for  his  bounty ! ” And  a 
hired  voice  or  two  among  the  crowd  cried,  “Hail  to 
Orestes ! Hail,  Emperor  of  Africa ! ” . . . But  there 
was  no  response. 

“The  rose  is  still  in  the  bud/"  simpered  Orestes  to 
Hypatia.  He  rose,  beckoned  and  bowed  the  crowd 
into  silence ; and  then,  after  a short  pantomimic  exhibi- 
tion of  rapturous  gratitude  and  humility,  pointed  tri- 
umphantly to  the  palm  avenue,  among  the  shadows 


HYPATIA. 


465 


of  which  appeared  the  wonder  of  the  day — the  huge 
tusks  and  trunk  of  the  white  elephant  himself. 

There  it  was  at  last!  Not  a doubt  of  it!  A real 
elephant,  and  yet  as  white  as  snow.  Sight  never  seen 
before  in  Alexandria — never  to  be  seen  again ! “ Oh, 
thrice  blest  men  of  Macedonia ! ” shouted  some  worthy 
on  high,  “the  gods  are  bountiful  to  you  this  day’” 
And  all  mouths  and  eyes  confirmed  the  opinion,  as 
they  opened  wider  and  yet  wider  to  drink  in  the  inex- 
haustible joy  and  glory. 

On  he  paced  solemnly,  white  the  whole  theatre  re- 
sounded to  his  heavy  tread,  and  the  Fauns  and  Dryads 
fled  in  terror.  A choir  of  nymphs  swung  round  him 
hand  in  hand,  and  sang,  as  they  danced  along,  the 
conquering  might  of  beauty,  the  tamer  of  beasts  and 
men,  and  deities.  Skirmishing  parties  of  little  winged 
cupids  spread  themselves  over  the  orchestra,  from  left 
to  right,  and  pelted  the  spectators  with  perfumed 
comfits,  shot  among  them  from  their  tiny  bows  arrows 
of  fragrant  sandal-wood,  or  swung  smoking  censers, 
which  loaded  the  air  with  intoxicating  odors. 

The  procession  came  on  down  the  slope,  and  the 
elephant  approached  the  spectators;  his  tusks  were 
wreathed  with  roses  and  myrtles;  his  ears  were 
pierced  with  splendid  earrings,  a jewelled  frontlet 
hung  between  his  e3Tes,  Eros  himself,  a lovely  winged 
boy,  sat  on  his  neck,  and  guided  him  with  the  point  of 
a golden  arrow.  But  what  precious  thing  was  it  which 
that  shell-formed  car  upon  his  back  contained  ? The 
goddess  ? Pelagia  Aphrodite  herself  ? 

Yes;  whiter  than  the  snow-white  elephant— ^more- 
rosy  than  the  pink-tipped  shell  in  which  she  lay,  among 
crimson  cushions  and  silver  gauze,  there  shone  the 
goddess,  thrilling  all  hearts  with  those  delicious  smiles, 
and  glances  of  the  bashful,  playful  eyes,  and  grateful 
30 


466 


IIYPATIA. 


wavijigs  of  her  tiny, hand,  as  the  whole  theatre  rose 
with  one  accord,  and  ten  thousand  eyes  were  concen- 
trated on  the  unequalled  loveliness  beneath  them. 

Twice  the  procession  passed  round  the  whole  cir- 
cumference of  the  orchestra,  and  then  returning-  from 
the  foot  of  the  slope  toward  the  central  group  around 
Hephaestus,  deployed  right  and  left  in  front  of  the 


More  rosy  than  the  pink-tipped  shell  in  which  she  lay. 


stage.  The  lions  and  tigers  were  led  away  into  the 
side  * passages ; the  youths  and  maidens  combined 
themselves  with  the  gentler  animals  into  groups  less- 
ening gradually  from  the  centre  to  the  wings,  and 
stood  expectant,  while  the  elephant  came  forward,  and 
knelt  behind  the  platform  destined  for  the  goddess. 

The  -valves  of  the  shell  closed.  The  Graces  unloosed 
the  .fastenings  of  the  car.  The  elephant  turned  his 
trunk  over  his  back,  and  guided  by  the  hands  of  the 


HYPATIA. 


467 


girls,  grasped  the  shell,  and  lifting  it  high  in  air,  de- 
posited it  on  the  steps  at  the  hack  of  the  platform. 

Hephaestus  limped  forward,  and  with  his  most  un- 
couth gestures,  signified  the  delight  which  he  had  in 
bestowing  such  a sight  upon  his  faithful  artisans  of 
Alexandria,  and  the  unspeakable  enjoyment  which 
they  were  to  expect  from  the  mystic  dance  of  the  god- 
dess; and  then  retired,  leaving  the  Graces  to  advance 
in  front  of  the  platform,  and  with  their  arms  twined 
round  each  other,  begin  Hypatia's  song  of  invo- 
cation. 

As  the  first  strophe  died  away,  the  valves  of  the 
shell  re-opened,  and  discovered  Aphrodite  crouching 
on  one  knee  within.  She  raised  her  head;  and  gazed 
around  the  vast  circle  of  seats.  A mild  surprise  was 
on  her  countenance,  which  quickened  into  delighted 
wonder,  and  bashfulness  struggling  with  the  sense  of 
new  enjoyment  and  new  powers.  She  glanced  down- 
ward at  herself;  and  smiled,  astonished  at  her  own 
loveliness;  then  upward  at  the  sky;  and  seemed  ready, 
with  an  awful  joy,  to  spring  up  into  the  boundless 
void.  Her  whole  figure  dilated;  she  seemed  to  drink 
in  strength  from  every  object  which  met  her  in  the 
great  universe  around;  and  slowly  from  among  the 
shells  and  sea-weeds,  she  rose  to  her  full  height,  the 
mystic  cestus  glittering  round  her  waist,  in  deep  fes- 
toons of  emeralds  and  pearls,  and  stepped  forward 
upon  the  marble  sea  floor,  wringing  the  dripping  per- 
fume from  her  locks,  as  Aphrodite  rose  of  old. 

For  the  first  minute  the  crowd  was  too  breathless 
with  pleasure  to  think  of  applause.  But  the  goddess 
seemed  to  require  due  homage,  and  when  she  folded 
her  arms  across  her  bosom,  and  stood  motionless  for 
an  instant,  as  if  to  demand  the  worship  of  the  uni- 
verse, every  tongue  was  loosed,  and  a thunder-clap  of 


468 


HYPATIA. 


“ Aphrodite ! ” rang  out  across  the  roofs  of  Alexandria, 
and  startled  Cyril  in  his  chamber  at  the  Serapeium, 
and  weary  muleteers  on  distant  sand-hills,  and  dozing 
mariners  far  out  at  sea. 

And  then  began  a miracle  of  art,  such  as  was  only 
possible  among  a people  of  the  free  and  exquisite 
physical  training,  and  the  delicate  sesthetic  perception 
of  those  old  Greeks,  even  in  their  most  fallen  days. 
A dance,  in  which  every  motion  was  a word,  and  rest 
as  eloquent  as  motion : in  which  every  attitude  was  a 
fresh  motive  for  a sculptor  of  the  purest  school,  and 
the  highest  physical  activity  was  manifested,  not  as 
in  the  coarser  comic  pantomimes,  in  fantastic  bounds 
and  unnatural  distortions,  but  in  perpetual  delicate 
modulations  of  a statety  and  self-restraining  grace. 
The  artist  was  for  a moment  transformed  into  the 
goddess.  The  theatre,  and  Alexandria,  and  the  gor- 
geous pageant  beyond,  had  vanished  from  her  imag- 
ination, and  therefore  from  the  imagination  of  the 
spectators,  under  the  constraining  inspiration  of  her 
art,  and  they  and  she  alike  saw  nothing  but  the  lonely 
sea  around  Cythera,  and  the  goddess  hovering  above 
its  emerald  mirror,  raying  forth  on  sea  and  air,  and 
shore,  beauty,  and  joy,  and  love.  . . . 

PliilammoiTs  eyes  were  bursting  from  his  head  with 
shame  and  horror,  and  yet  he  could  not  hate  her;  not 
even  despise  her.  He  would  have  done  so,  had  there 
been  the  faintest  trace  of  human  feeling  in  her  coun- 
tenance, to  prove  that  some  germ  of  moral  sense  lin- 
gered within ; but  even  the  faint  blush  and  the 
downcast  eye  with  which  she  had  entered  the  theatre, 
were  gone ; and  the  only  expression  on  her  face  was 
that  of  intense  enjoyment  of  her  own  activity  and 
skill,  and  satisfied  vanity,  as  of  a petted  child.  . . . 
Was  she  accountable?  A reasonable  soul,  capable  of 


HYPATIA. 


469 


right  or  wrong  at  all  ? He  hoped  not.  . . . He  would 
trust  not.  . . . And  still  Pelagia  danced  on ; and  for  a 
whole  age  of  agony,  he  could  see  nothing  in  heaven  or 
earth  but  the  bewildering  maze  of  those  white  feet,  as 
they  twinkled  over  their  white  image  in  the  marble 
mirror.  ...  At  last  it  was  over.  Every  limb  suddenly 
collapsed,  and  she  stood  drooping  in  soft,  self-satisfied 
fatigue,  awaiting  the  burst  of  applause  which  rang 
through  Philammon’s  ears,  proclaiming  to  heaven  and 
earth,  as  with  a mighty  trumpet-blast,  his  sister’s 
shame. 

The  elephant  rose,  and  moved  forward  to  the  side 
of  the  slabs.  His  back  was  covered  with  crimson 
cushions,  on  which  it  seemed  that  Aphrodite  was  to 
return  without  her  shell.  She  folded  her  arms  across 
her  bosom,  and  stood  smiling,  as  the  elephant  gently 
wreathed  his  trunk  around  her  waist,  and  lifted  her 
slowly  from  the  slab,  in  act  to  place  her  on  his  back. 

The  little  feet,  clinging  half  fearfully  together,  had 
just  risen  from  the  marble.  The  elephant  started, 
dropped  his  delicate  burden  heavily  on  the  slab,  looked 
down,  raised  his  forefoot,  and  throwing  his  trunk  into 
the  air,  gave  a shrill  scream  of  terror  and  disgust. 

The  foot  was  red  with  blood,  the  young  boy’s  blood, 
which  was  soaking  and  bubbling  up  through  the  fresh 
sand  where  the  elephant  had  trodden,  in  a round,  dark, 
purple  spot.  . . . 

Philammon  could  bear  no  more.  Another  moment 
and  he  had  hurled  down  through  the  dense  mass  of 
spectators,  clearing  rank  after  rank  of  seats  by  the 
sheer  strength  of  madness,  leaped  the  balustrade  into 
the  orchestra  below,  and  rushed  across  the  space  to 
the  foot  of  the  platform. 

“Pelagia!  Sister!  My  sister!  Have  mercy  on  me 
and  on  yourself  ! I will  hide  you ! save  you ! and  we 


470 


HYPATIA. 


will  flee  together  out  of  this  infernal  place ! this  world 
of  devils!  I am  your  brother ! Come!” 

She  looked  at  him  one  moment  with  wide,  wild  eyes 
The  truth  flashed  on  her 

“ Brother!” 

And  she  sprang  from  the  platform  into  his  arms. 
. . . A vision  of  a lofty  window  in  Athens,  looking  out 
over  far  olive  yards  and  gardens,  and  the  bright  roofs 
and  basins  of  the  Pineus,  and  the  broad  blue  sea,  with 
the  purple  peaks  of  ASgina  beyond  all.  . . . And  a 
dark-eyed  boy,  with  his  arm  around  her  neck,  pointed 
laughing  to  the  twinkling  masts  in  the  far  harbor,  and 
called  her  sister.  . . . The  dead  soul  woke  within  her : 
and  with  a wild  cry  she  recoiled  from  him  in  an  agony 
of  shame,  and  covering  her  face  with  both  her  hands, 
sank  down  among  the  blood-stained  sand. 

A yell,  as  of  all  hell  broke  loose,  ran  along  that  vast 
circle : 

“ Down  with  him ! ” “ Away  with  him ! ” “ Crucify 
the  slave ! ” “ Give  the  barbarian  to  the  beasts ! ” 
“ To  the  beasts  with  him,  noble  prefect ! ” A crowd  of 
attendants  rushed  upon  him  and  many  of  the  specta- 
tors sprang  from  their  seats,  and  were  on  the  point  of 
leaping  down  into  the  orchestra. 

Philammon  turned  upon  them  like  a lion  at  bay;  and 
clear  and  loud  his  voice  rose  through  the  roar  of  the 
multitude. 

“ Ay ! murder  me  as  the  Romans  murdered  Saint 
Telemachus ! Slaves  as  besotted  and  accursed  as  your 
besotted  and  accursed  tyrants ! Lower  than  the  beasts 
whom  you  employ  as  your  butchers!  Murder  and  lust 
go  fitly  hand  in  hand,  and  the  throne  of  my  sister’s 
shame  is  well  built  on  the  blood  of  innocents ! Let  my 
death  end  the  devil’s  sacrifice,  and  fill  up  the  cup  of 
your  iniquity ! ” 


He  caught  Philammon  in  his  trunk  and  raised  him  high  in  air. 


HYPATIA. 


473 


“ To  the  beasts!  " “ Make  the  elephant  trample  him 

to  powder!  " 

And  the  huge  brute,  goaded  on  by  the  attendants, 
rushed  on  the  youth,  while  Eros  leaped  from  his  neck, 
and  fled  weeping  up  the  slope. 

He  caught  Philammon  in  his  trunk  and  raised  him 
high  in  air.  For  an  instant  the  great  bellowing  ocean 
of  heads  spun  round  and  round.  He  tried  to  breathe 

one  prayer  and  shut  his  eyes Pelagia's  voice  rang 

sweet  and  clear  even  in  the  shrillness  of  intense  agony — 

“ Spare  him ! He  is  my  brother ! Forgive  him,  men 
of  Macedonia!  For  Pelagia's  sake — your  Pelagia! 
One  boon — only  this  one!" 

And  she  stretched  her  arms  imploringly  toward  the 
spectators,  and  then  clasping  the  huge  knees  of  the 
elephant,  called  madly  to  it  in  terms  of  passionate  en- 
treaty and  endearment. 

The  men  wavered.  The  brute  did  not.  Quietly  he 
lowered  his  trunk,  and  set  down  Philammon  on  his 
feet.  The  monk  was  saved.  Breathless  and  dizzy,  he 
found  himself  hurried  away  by  the  attendants,  dragged 
through  dark  passages,  and  hurled  out  into  the  street, 
with  curses,  warnings,  and  congratulations,  which  fell 
on  an  unheeding  ear. 

But  Pelagia  kept  her  face  still  hidden  in  her  hands, 
and  rising,  walked  slowly  back,  crushed  by  the  weight 
of  some  tremendous  awe,  across  the  orchestra,  and  up 
the  slope;  and  vanished  among  the  palms  and  olean- 
ders, regardless  of  the  applause  and  entreaties,  and 
jeers,  and  threats,  and  curses,  of  that  great  multitude 
of  sinful  slaves. 

For  a moment  all  Orestes's  spells  seemed  broken  by 
this  unexpected  catastrophe.  A cloud,  whether  of  dis- 
gust or  of  disappointment,  hung  upon  every  brow. 
More  than  one  Christian  rose  hastily  to  depart,  touched 


474 


HYPATIA. 


with  real  remorse  and  shame  at  the  horrors  of  which 
they  had  been  the  willing'  witnesses.  The  common 
people  behind,  having  glutted  their  curiosity  with  all 
that  there  was  to  see,  began  openly  to  murmur  at  the 
cruelty  and  heathenry  of  it.  Hypatia,  utterly  un- 
nerved, hid  her  face  in  both  her  hands.  Orestes  alone 
rose  with  the  crisis.  Now,  or  never,  was  the  time  for 
action;  and  stepping  forward,  with  his  most  graceful 
obeisance,  waved  his  hand  for  silence,  and  began  his 
well-studied  oration. 

“Let  me  not,  O men  of  Macedonia,  suppose  that 
you  can  be  disturbed  from  that  equanimity  which  befits 
politicians,  by  so  light  an  accident  as  the  caprice  of  a 
dancer.  The  spectacle  which  I have  had  the  honor 
and  delight  of  exhibiting  to  you — (roars  and  applause 
from  the  liberated  prisoners  and  the  young  gentle- 
men)— and  on  which  it  seemed  to  me  you  have  deigned 
to  look  with  not  altogether  unkindly  eyes — (Fresh  ap- 
plause, in  which  the  Christian  mob,  relenting,  began 
to  join)  is  but  a pleasant  prelude  to  that  more  serious 
business,  for  which  I have  drawn  you  here  together. 
Other  testimonials  of  my  good  intentions  have  not 
been  wanting  in  the  release  of  suffering  innocence,  and 
in  the  largess  of  food,  the  growth  and  natural  property 
of  Egypt,  destined  by  your  late  tyrants  to  pamper  the 
luxury  of  a distant  court.  . . . Why  should  I boast  ? 
yet  even  now  this  head  is  weary,  these  limbs  fail  me, 
worn  out  in  ceaseless  efforts  for  your  welfare,  and  in 
the  perpetual  administration  of  the  strictest  justice. 
For  a time  has  come  in  which  the  Macedonian  race, 
whose  boast  is  the  gorgeous  city  of  Alexandria,  must 
rise  again  to  the  political  pre-eminence  which  they 
held  of  old,  and  becoming  once  more  the  masters  of 
one-third  of  the  universe,  be  treated  by  their  rulers  as 
freemen,  citizens,  heroes,  who  have  a right  to  choose 


HYPATIA. 


475 


and  to  employ  their  rulers.  Rulers,  did  I say  ? Let 
us  forget  the  word,  and  substitute  in  its  place  the  more 
philosophic  term  of  ministers.  To  be  your  minister, 
the  servant  of  you  all — to  sacrifice  myself,  my  leisure, 
health,  life,  if  need  be,  to  the  one  great  object  of  secur- 
ing the  independence  of  Alexandria — this  is  my  work, 
my  hope,  my  glory,  longed  for  through  weary  years, 
now  for  the  first  time  possible  by  the  fall  of  the  late 
puppet  Emperor  of  Rome.  Men  of  Macedonia,  re- 
member that  Honorius  reigns  no  more ! An  African 
sits  on  the  throne  of  the  Caesars!  Heraclian,  by  one 
decisive  victory,  has  gained,  by  the  favor  of — of  Heaven, 
the  imperial  purple ; and  a new  era  opens  for  the  world. 
Let  the  conqueror  of  Rome  balance  his  account  with 
that  Byzantine  court,  so  long  the  incubus  of  our  Trans- 
Mediterranean  wealth  and  civilization;  and  let  a free, 
independent,  and  united  Africa  rally  round  the  palaces 
and  docks  of  Alexandria,  and  find  there  its  natural 
centre  of  polity  and  of  prosperity.” 

A roar  of  hired  applause  interrupted  him : and  not 
a few,  half  for  the  sake  of  his  compliments  and  fine 
words,  half  from  a natural  wish  to  be  on  the  right  side 
— namely,  the  one  which  happened  to  be  in  the  ascend- 
ant for  the  time  being — joined.  . . . The  city  author- 
ities were  on  the  point  of  crying,  “ Imperator  Orestes : ” 
but  thought  better  of  it:  and  waited  for  some  one  else 
to  cry  first — being  respectable.  Whereon  the  prefect 
of  the  guards,  being  a man  of  some  presence  of  mind, 
and  also  not  in  anywise  respectable,  pricked  up  the 
prefect  of  the  docks  with  the  point  of  his  dagger,  and 
bade  him,  with  a fearful  threat,  take  care  how  he 
played  traitor.  The  worthy  burgher  roared  incon- 
tinently— whether  with  pain  or  patriotism;  and  the 
whole  array  of  respectabilities —having  found  a Cur- 
tius  who  would  leap  into  the  gulf,  joined  in  unanimous 


476 


HYPATIA. 


chorus,  and  saluted  Orestes  as  Emperor;  while  Hy- 
patia, amid  the  shouts  of  her  aristocratic  scholars, 
rose  and  knelt  before  him,  writhing  inwardly  with 
shame  and  despair,  and  entreated  him  to  accept  that 
tutelage  of  Greek  commerce,  supremacy,  and  philos- 
ophy which  was  forced  on  him  by  the  unanimous  voice 
of  an  adoring  people.  . . . 

“ It  is  false ! ” shouted  a voice  from  the  highest  tiers, 
appropriated  to  the  women  of  the  lower  classes,  which 
made  all  turn  their  heads  in  bewilderment. 

“False!  false!  You  are  tricked!  He  is  tricked! 
Heraclian  was  utterly  routed  at  Ostia,  and  is  fled  to 
Carthage,  with  the  emperor’s  fleet  in  chase.” 

“ She  lies ! Drag  the  beast  down ! ” cried  Orestes, 
utterly  thrown  off  his  balance  by  the  sudden  check. 

“She?  He!  I,  a monk,  brought  the  news!  Cyril 
has  known  it — every  Jew  in  the  Delta  has  known  it, 
for  a week  past!  So  perish  all  the  enemies  of  the 
Lord,  caught  in  their  own  snare ! ” 

And  bursting  desperately  through  the  women  who 
surrounded  him,  the  monk  vanished. 

An  awful  silence  fell  on  all  who  heard.  For  a min- 
ute every  man  looked  in  his  neighbor’s  face  as  if  he 
longed  to  cut  his  throat,  and  get  rid  of  one  witness,  at 
least,  of  his  treason.  And  then  arose  a tumult,  which 
Orestes  in  vain  attempted  to  subdue.  Whether  the 
populace  believed  the  monk’s  words  or  not,  they  were 
panic-stricken  at  the  mere  possibility  of  their  truth. 
Hoarse  with  denying,  protesting,  appealing,  the  would- 
be  emperor  had  at  last  to  summon  his  guards  around 
him  and  Hypatia,  and  make  his  way  out  of  the  theatre 
as  best  he  could;  while  the  multitude  melted  away  like 
snow  before  the  rain,  and  poured  out  into  the  streets 
in  eddying  and  roaring  streams,  to  find  every  church 
placarded  by  Cyril  with  the  particulars  of  Heraclian’s 
ruin. 


HYPATIA. 


477 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

NEMESIS. 

That  evening  was  a hideous  one  in  the  palace  of 
Orestes.  His  agonies  of  disappointment,  rage,  and 
terror  were  at  once  so  shameful  and  so  fearful,  that 
none  of  his  slaves  dare  approach  him ; and  it  was  not 
till  late  that  his  confidential  secretary,  the  Chaldean 
eunuch,  driven  by  terror  of  the  exasperated  Catholics, 
ventured  into  the  tiger's  den,  and  represented  to  him 
the  immediate  necessity  for  action. 

What  could  he  do  ? He  was  committed — Cyril  only 
knew  how  deeply.  What  might  not  the  wily  archbishop 
have  discovered  ? What  might  he  not  pretend  to  have 
discovered  ? What  accusations  might  he  not  send  off 
on  the  spot  to  the  Byzantine  Court  ? 

“ Let  the  gates  be  guarded,  and  no  one  allowed  to 
leave  the  city,”  suggested  the  Chaldee. 

“Keep  in  monks?  as  well  keep  in  rats!  Ho;  we 
must  send  off  a counter-report,  instantly.” 

“What  shall  I say,  your  excellency?”  quoth  the 
ready  scribe,  pulling  out  pen  and  inkhorn  from  his 
sash. 

“ What  do  I care  ? Any  lie  which  comes  to  hand. 
What  in  the  devil's  name  are  you  here  for  at  all,  but 
to  invent  a lie  when  I want  one  ? ” 

“True,  most  noble,”  and  the  worthy  sat  meekly 
down  to  his  paper  . . . but  did  not  proceed  rapidly. 

“ I don't  see  anything  that  would  suit  the  emergency. 


478 


HYPATIA. 


unless  I stated,  with  your  august,  leave,  that  Cyril, 
and  not  you,  celebrated  the  gladiatorial  exhibition; 
which  might  hardly  appear  credible.” 

Orestes  burst  out  laughing,  in  spite  of  himself.  The 
sleek  Chaldee  smiled  and  purred  in  return.  The  vic- 


“ What  shall  I say,  your  excellency  ?” 


tory  was  won;  and  Orestes,  somewhat  more  master  of 
himself,  began  to  turn  his  vulpine  cunning  to  the  one 
absorbing  question  of  the  saving  of  his  worthless 
neck. 

“No,  that  would  be  too  good.  Write,  that  we  had 
discovered  a plot  on  Cyril’s  part  to  incorporate  the 
whole  of  the  African  churches  (mind  and  specify  Car- 


HYPATIA. 


479 


thage  and  Hippo)  under  his  own  jurisdiction,  and  to 
throw  oft  allegiance  to  the  Patriarch  of  Constantino- 
ple, in  case  of  Heraclian's  success/' 

The  secretary  purred  delighted  approval,  and  scrib- 
bled away  now  with  right  good  heart. 

“ Heraclian's  success,  your  excellency." 

“ We  of  course  desired,  by  every  means  in  our  power, 
to  gratify  the  people  of  Alexandria,  and,  as  was  our 
duty,  to  excite  by  every  lawful  method  their  loyalty 
toward  the  throne  of  the  Caesars  (never  mind  who  sat 
on  it)  at  so  critical  a moment." 

“ So  critical  a moment " 

“ But  as  faithful  Catholics,  and  abhorring,  even  in 
the  extremest  need,  the  sin  of  Uzzah,  we  dreaded  to 
touch  with  the  unsanctified  hands  of  laymen  the  con- 
secrated ark  of  the  Church,  even  though  for  its  pres- 
ervation  " 

“ Its  preservation,  your  excellency " 

“We,  therefore,  as  civil  magistrates,  felt  bound  to 
confine  ourselves  to  those  means  which  were  already 
allowed  by  law  and  custom  to  our  jurisdiction,  and  ac- 
cording^ made  use  of  those  largesses,  spectacles,  and 
public  execution  of  rebels,  which  have  unhappily  ap- 
peared to  his  holiness  the  patriarch  (too  ready,  per- 
haps, to  find  a cause  of  complaint  against  faithful  ad- 
herents of  the  Byzantine  See)  to  partake  of  the  nature 
of  those  gladiatorial  exhibitions,  which  are  equally 
abhorrent  to  the  spirit  of  the  Catholic  Church,  and  to 
the  charity  of  the  sainted  emperors  by  whose  pious 
edicts  they  have  been  long  since  abolished." 

“Your  excellency  is  indeed  great  . . . but — pardon 
your  slave's  remark — my  simplicity  is  of  opinion  that 
it  may  be  asked  why  you  did  not  inform  the  Augusta 
Pulcheria  of  Cyril's  conspiracy?" 

“Say  that  we  sent  a messenger  off  three  months 


480 


IIYPATIA. 


ago,  but  that.  . . . Make  something  happen  to  him, 
stupid,  and  save  me  the  trouble.” 

“ Shall  I kill  him  by  Arabs  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Palmyra,  your  excellency  ?” 

“Let  me  see.  . . . No.  They  may  make  inquiries 
there.  Drown  him  at  sea.  Nobody  can  ask  questions 
of  the  sharks.” 

“Foundered  between  Tyre  and  Crete,  from  which 
sad  calamity  only  one  man  escaped  on  a raft,  and 
being  picked  up,  after  three  weeks'  exposure  to  the 

fury  of  the  elements,  by  a returning  wheat-ship . 

By-the-by,  most  noble,  what  am  I to  say  about  those 
wheat-ships  not  having  even  sailed  ? ” 

“ Head  of  Augustus ! I forgot  them  utterly.  Say  that 
— say  that  the  plague  was  making  such  ravages  in  the 
harbor-quarter  that  we  feared  carrying  the  infection  to 
the  seat  of  the  empire;  and  let  them  sail  to-morrow.” 
The  secretary's  face  lengthened. 

“My  fidelity  is  compelled  to  remark,  even  at  the 
risk  of  your  just  indignation,  that  half  of  them  have 
been  unloaded  again  for  your  munificent  largesses  of 
the  last  two  days.” 

Orestes  swore  a great  oath. 

“ Oh,  that  the  mob  had  but  one  throat,  that  I might 
give  them  an  emetic!  Well,  we  must  buy  more  corn, 
that's  all.” 

The  secretary's  face  grew  longer  still. 

“ The  Jews,  most  august ” 

“What  of  them?”  yelled  the  hapless  prefect. 
“ Have  they  been  forestalling  ? ” 

“My  assiduity  has  discovered  this  afternoon  that 
they  have  been  buying  up  and  exporting  all  the  pro- 
visions which  they  could  obtain.” 

“ Scoundrels ! Then  they  must  have  known  of  Hera- 
clian's  failure ! ” 


HYPATIA. 


481 


“ Your  sagacity  has,  I fear,  divined  the  truth.  They 
have  been  betting  largely  against  hi§  success  for  the 
last  week,  both  in  Canopus  and  Pelusium.” 

“For  the  last  week!  Then  Miriam  betrayed  me 
knowingly!”  And  Orestes  broke  forth  again  into  a 
paroxysm  of  fury. 

“ Here — call  the  tribune  of  the  guard ! A hundred 
gold  pieces  to  the  man  who  brings  me  the  witch  alive ! ” 
“ She  will  never  be  taken  alive.” 

“ Dead,  then — in  any  way ! Go,  you  Chaldee  hound ! 
what  are  you  hesitating  about  ? ” 

“Most  noble  lord,”  said  the  secretary,  prostrating 
himself  upon  the  floor,  and  kissing  his  master’s  feet  in 
an  agony  of  fear.  . . . “ Remember,  that  if  you  touch 
one  Jew  you  touch  all!  Remember  the  bonds!  re- 
member the — the — your  own  most  august  reputation, 
in  short.” 

“ Get  up,  brute,  and  don’t  grovel  there,  but  tell  me 
what  you  mean,  like  a human  being.  If  old  Miriam  is 
once  dead,  her  bonds  die  with  her,  don’t  they  ? ” 

“Alas,  my  lord,  you  do  not  know  the  customs  of 
that  accursed  folk.  They  have  a damnable  practice 
of  treating  every  member  of  their  nation  as  a brother, 
and  helping  each  freely  and  faithfully  without  reward ; 
whereby  they  are  enabled  to  plunder  all  the  rest  of 
the  world,  and  thrive  themselves,  from  the  least  to 
the  greatest.  Don’t  fancy  that  your  bonds  are  in 
Miriam’s  hands.  They  have  been  transferred  months 
ago.  Your  real  creditors  may  be  in  Carthage,  or 
Rome,  or  Byzantium,  and  they  will  attack  you  from 
thence;  while  all  that  you  would  find  if  you  seized  the 
old  witch’s  property,  would  be  papers,  useless  to  you, 
belonging  to  Jews  all  over  the  empire,  who  would  rise 
as  a man  in  defence  of  their  money.  I assure  you,  it 
is  a net  without  a bound.  If  you  touch  one  you  touch 


482 


HYPATIA. 


all.  . . . And  besides,  my  diligence,  expecting  some 
such  command,  has  already  taken  the  liberty  of  mak- 
ing inquiries  as  to  Miriam’s  place  of  abode ; but  it  ap- 
pears, I am  sorry  to  say,  utterly  unknown  to  any  of 
your  excellency’s  servants.” 

“ Y ou  lie ! ” said  Orestes.  . . . “I  would  much  sooner 
believe  that  you  have  been  warning  the  hag  to  keep 
out  of  the  way.” 

Orestes  had  spoken,  for  that  once  in  his  life,  the  ex- 
act truth. 

The  secretary,  who  had  his  own  private  dealings 
with  Miriam,  felt  every  particular  atom  of  his  skin 
shudder  at  those  words;  and  had  he  had  hair  on  his 
head,  it  would  certainly  have  betrayed  him  by  stand- 
ing visibly  on  end.  But  as  he  was,  luckily  for  him, 
close  shaven,  his  turban  remained  in  its  proper  place, 
as  he  meekly  replied — 

“Alas!  a faithful  servant  can  feel  no  keener  woe 
than  the  causeless  suspicion  of  that  sun  before  whose 
rays  he  daily  prostrates  his 

“Confound  your  periphrases!  Do  you  know  where 
she  is  ? ” 

“No!”  cried  the  wretched  secretary,  driven  to  the 
lie  direct  at  last;  and  confirmed  the  negation  with 
such  a string  of  oaths,  that  Orestes  stopped  his  volu- 
bility with  a kick,  borrowed  of  him,  under  threat  of 
torture,  a thousand  gold  pieces  as  largess  to  the  sol- 
diery, and  ended  by  concentrating  the  stationaries 
round  his  own  palace,  for  the  double  purpose  of  pro- 
tecting himself  in  case  of  a riot,  and  of  increasing  the 
chances  of  the  said  riot,  by  leaving  the  distant  quar- 
ters of  the  city  without  police, 

“ If  Cyril  would  but  make  a fool  of  himself,  now  that 
he  is  in  the  full-blown  pride  of  victory — the  rascal! 
about  that  Ammonius,  or  about  Hypatia,  or  anything 


HYPATIA. 


483 


else,  and  give  me  a real  handle  against  him ! After 
all,  truth  works  better  than  lying  now  and  then.  Oh, 
that  I could  poison  him!  But  one  can't  bribe  those 
ecclesiastics;  and  as  for  the  dagger,  one  could  not 
hire  a man  to  be  torn  in  pieces  by  monks.  No;  I must 
just  sit  still,  and  see  what  Fortune's  dice  may  turn  up. 
Well;  your  pedants  like  Aristides  or  Epaminondas 
— thank  Heaven,  the  race  of  them  has  died  out  long- 
ago  ! might  call  this  no  very  creditable  piece  of  pro- 
vincial legislation;  but,  after  all,  it  is  about  as  good  as 
any  now  going,  or  likely  to  be  going  till  the  world's 
end;  and  one  can't  be  expected  to  strike  out  a new 
path.  I shall  stick  to  the  wisdom  of  my  predecessors, 
and — oh,  that  Cyril  may  make  a fool  of  himself  to- 
night!" 

And  Cyril  did  make  a fool  of  himself  that  night,  for 
the  first  and  last  time  in  his  life;  and  suffers  for  it, 
as  wise  men  are  wont  to  do  when  they  err,  to  this  very 
day  and  hour;  but  how  much  Orestes  gained  by  his 
foe's  false  move  cannot  be  decided  till  the  end  of  his 
story ; perhaps  not  even  then. 


484 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

LOST  LAMBS. 


And  Philammon  ? 

For  a long*  while  he  stood  in  the  street  outside  the 
theatre,  too  much  maddened  to  determine  on  any 
course  of  action;  and,  ere  he  had  recovered  his  self- 
possession,  the  crowd  began  to  pour  from  every  outlet 
and,  filling  the  street,  swept  him  away  in  its  stream. 

Then,  as  he  heard  his  sister’s  name,  in  every  tone  of 
pity,  contempt,  and  horror,  mingle  with  their  angry 
exclamations,  he  awoke  from  his  dream,  and  bursting 
through  the  mob,  made  straight  for  Pelagia’s  house. 

It  was  fast  closed ; and  his  repeated  knocks  at  the 
gate  brought  only,  after  long  waiting,  a surly  negro 
face  to  a little  wicket. 

He  asked  eagerly  and  instinctively  for  Pelagia : of 
course  she  had  not  yet  returned.  For  Wulf;  he  was 
not  within.  And  then  he  took  his  station  close  to  the 
gateway,  while  his  heart  beat  loud  with  hope  and 
dread. 

At  last  the  Goths  appeared,  forcing  their  way 
through  the  mob  in  a close  column.  There  were  no 
litters  with  them.  Where,  then,  were  Pelagia  and  her 
girls  ? Where,  too,  was  the  hated  figure  of  the  Amal  ? 
and  Wulf,  and  Smid  ? The  men  came  on,  led  by  God- 
eric  and  Agilmund,  with  folded  arms,  knitted  brows, 
downcast  eyes;  a stern  disgust,  not  unmingled  with 
shame,  on  every  countenance,  told  Philammon  afresh 
of  his  sister’s  infamy. 


HYPATIA. 


485 


Goderic  passed  him  close,  and  Philammon  summoned 
up  courage  to  ask  for  Wulf.  . . . Pelagia  he  had  not 
courage  to  name. 

“ Out,  Greek  hound ! we  have  seen  enough  of  your 
accursed  race  to-day!  What?  are  you  trying  to  fol- 
low us  in  ?"  and  the  young  man’s  sword  flashed  from 
its  sheath  so  swiftly,  that  Philammon  had  hut  just 
time  enough  to  spring  back  into  the  street,  and  wait 
there,  in  an  agony  of  disappointment  and  anxiety,  as 
the  gates  slid  together  again,  and  the  house  was  as 
silent  as  before. 

For  a miserable  hour  he  waited,  while  the  mob 
thickened  instead  of  flowing  away,  and  the  scattered 
groups  of  chatterers  began  to  form  themselves  into 
masses,  and  parade  the  streets  with  shouts  of  “ Down 
with  the  heathen ! ” “ Down  with  the  idolaters ! ” “Ven- 
geance on  all  blaspheming  harlots ! 99 

At  last  the  steady  tramp  of  legionaries,  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  glittering  lines  of  armed  men — oh,  joy!  a 
string  of  litters ! 

He  sprang  forward  and  called  Pelagia’s  name  again 
and  again.  Once  he  fancied  he  heard  an  answer ; but 
the  soldiers  thrust  him  back. 

“ She  is  safe  here,  young  fool,  and  has  seen  and  been 
seen  quite  enough  to-day  already.  Back ! ” 

“ Let  me  speak  to  her ! ” 

“ That  is  her  business.  Ours  is  now  to  see  her  home 
safe.” 

“ Let  me  go  in  with  you,  I beseech ! 99 

“ If  you  want  to  go  in,  knock  for  yourself  when  we 
are  gone.  If  you  have  any  business  in  the  house  they 
will  open  to  you,  I suppose.  Out,  you  interfering 
puppy!” 

And  a blow  of  the  spear-butt  in  his  chest  sent  him 
rolling  back  into  the  middle  of  the  street,  while  the  sol- 


486 


HYPATIA. 


diers,  having-  delivered  up  their  charge,  returned  with 
the  same  stolid  indifference.  In  vain  Philammon,  re- 
turning, knocked  at  the  gate.  Curses  and  threats 
from  the  negro  were  all  the  answer  which  he  received; 
and  at  last,  wearied  into  desperation,  he  wandered 
away,  up  one  street  and  down  another,  struggling  in 
vain  to  form  some  plan  of  action  for  himself,  until  the 
sun  was  set. 

Wearily  he  went  homeward  at  last.  Once  the 
thought  of  Miriam  crossed  his  mind.  It  was  a dis- 
gusting alternative  to  ask  help  of  her,  the  very  author 
of  his  sister’s  shame;  but  yet  she  at  least  could  obtain 
for  him  a sight  of  Pelagia;  she  had  promised  as  much. 
But  then — the  condition  which  she  had  appended  to 
her  help ! To  see  his  sister,  and  yet  to  leave  her  as 
she  was ! Horrible  contradiction ! But  could  he  not 
employ  Miriam  for  his  own  ends  ? — outwit  her  ? — de- 
ceive her  ? — for  it  came  to  that.  The  temptation  was 
intense;  but  it  lasted  only  a moment.  Could  he  defile 
so  pure  a cause  by  falsehood  ? And  hurrying  past  the 
Jewess’  door,  hardly  daring  to  look  at  it,  lest  the 
temptation  should  return,  he  darted  up-stairs  to  his 
own  little  chamber,  hastily  flung  open  the  door,  and 
stopped  short  in  astonishment. 

A woman,  covered  from  head  to  foot  in  a large  dark 
veil,  in  the  centre  of  the  chamber. 

“ Who  are  you  ? This  is  no  place  for  you ! ” cried  he, 
after  a minute’s  pause.  She  replied  only  by  a shudder 
and  a sob.  . . . He  caught  sight,  beneath  the  folds  of 
the  veil,  of  a too  well-known  saffron  shawl,  and  spring- 
ing upon  her  like  the  lion  on  the  lamb,  clasped  to  his 
bosom  his  sister. 

The  veil  fell  from  her  beautiful  forehead.  She  gazed 
into  his  eyes  one  moment  with  a look  of  terrified  in- 
quiry, and  saw  nothing  there  but  love.  . . . And  cling- 


HYPATIA. 


487 


mg’  heart  to  heart,  brother  and  sister  mingled  holy 
kisses,  and  strained  nearer  and  nearer  still,  as  if  to 
satisfy  their  last  lingering  doubts  of  each  other’s  kin. 

Many  a minute  passed  in  silent  joy.  . . . Philammon 
dare  not  speak:  he  dare  not  ask  her  what  brought  her 
thither — dare  not  wake  her  to  recollect  the  frightful 
present  by  questions  of  the  past,  of  his  long  forgotten 


parents,  their  home,  her  history.  . . . And,  after  all, 
was  it  not  enough  for  him  that  he  held  her  at  last  ? — 
her,  there  by  her  own  will — the  lost  lamb  returned  to 
him  ? — and  their  tears  mingled  as  their  cheeks  were 
pressed  together. 

At  last  she  spoke. 

“ I ought  to  have  known  you — I believe  I did  know 
you  from  the  first  day!  When  they  mentioned  your 


He  dare  not  ask  her  what  brought  her  thither. 


488 


HYPATIA. 


likeness  to  me,  my  heart  leapt  up  within  me : and  a 
voice  whispered  . . . but  I would  not  hear  it!  I was 
ashamed — ashamed  to  acknowledge  my  brother,  for 
whom  I had  sought  and  longed  for  years  . . . ashamed 
to  think  that  I had  a brother.  . . . Ah,  God!  and 
ought  I not  to  be  ashamed  ? ” 

And  she  broke  from  him  again,  and  threw  herself 
on  the  floor. 

“ Trample  upon  me;  curse  me — anything  but  part 
me  from  him ! ” 

Philammon  had  not  the  heart  to  answer  her;  but 
he  made  an  involuntary  gesture  of  sorrowful  dissent. 

“No!  Call  me  what  I am! — what  he  called  me  just 
now! — but  do  not  take  me  away!  Strike  me,  as  he 
struck  me! — anything  but  parting!  ” 

“ Struck  you  ? The  curse  of  God  be  on  him ! ” 

“Ah,  do  not  curse  him ! not  him ! It  was  not  a blow, 
indeed ! — only  a push — a touch — and  it  was  my  fault — 
all  mine.  I angered  him — I upbraided  him — I was 
mad.  . . . Oh,  why  did  he  deceive  me  ? Why  did  he 
let  me  dance  ? — command  me  to  dance.” 

“ Command  you  ? ” 

“ He  said  that  we  must  not  break  our  words.  He 
would  not  hear  me,  when  I told  him  that  we  could 
deny  having  promised.  I said  that  promises  made 
over  the  wine  need  never  be  kept.  . . . Who  ever 
heard  of  keeping  them  ? And  Orestes  was  drunk,  too. 
But  he  said  that  I might  teach  a Goth  to  be  what  I 
liked,  except  a liar.  ...  Was  not  that  a strange 
speech  ? . . . And  Wulf  bade  him  be  strong,  and  blest 
him  for  it.” 

“He  was  right,”  sobbed  Philammon. 

“ Then  I thought  he  would  love  me  for  obeying  him, 
though  I loathed  it!— O God,  how  I loathed  it!  . . . 
But  how  could  I fancy  that  he  did  not  like  my  doing 


HYPATIA. 


489 


it!  Who  ever  heard  of  any  one  doing’  of  their  own  will 
what  they  did  not  like  ? ” 

Philammon  sobbed  again,  as  the  poor  civilized  sav- 
age artlessly  opened  to  him  all  her  moral  darkness. 
What  could  he  say  ? . . . He  knew  what  to  say.  The 
disease  was  so  utterly  patent,  that  any  of  Cyril’s 
school  children  could  have  supplied  the  remedy.  But 
how  to  speak  it  ? — how  to  tell  her,  before  all  things,  as 
he  longed  to  do,  that  there  was  no  hope  of  her  marry- 
ing the  Amal  and,  therefore,  no  peace  for  her  till  she 
left  him  ? 

“Then  you  did  hate  the — the ” said  he,  at  last, 

catching  at  some  gleam  of  light. 

“ Hate  it ! Do  I not  belong,  body  and  soul,  to  him  ? 
— him  only  ? . . . And  yet  . . . Oh,  I must  tell  you 
all!  When  I and  the  girls  began  to  practise,  all  the 
old  feelings  came  back — the  love  of  being  admired,  and 
applauded,  and  cheered;  dancing  is  so  delicious!  so 
delicious  to  feel  that  you  are  doing  anything  beautiful 
perfectly,  and  better  than  every  one  else ! . . . And  he 
saw  that  I liked  it,  and  despised  me  for  it.  . . . And, 
deceitful!  he  little  guessed  how  much  of  the  pains 
which  I took  were  taken  to  please  him,  to  do  my  best 
before  him,  to  win  admiration,  only  that  I might  take 
it  home  and  throw  it  all  at  his  beloved  feet,  and  make 
the  world  say  once  more,  * She  has  all  Alexandria  to 
worship  her,  and  yet  she  cares  for  that  one  Goth  more 

than  for 7 But  he  deceived  me,  true  man  that  he 

is!  He  wished  to  enjoy  my  smiles  to  the  last  moment, 
and  then  to  cast  me  off,  when  I had  once  given  him  an 
excuse.  . . . Too  cowardly  to  upbraid  me,  he  let  me 
ruin  myself,  to  save  him  the  trouble  of  ruining  me. 
O men,  men ! all  alike ! They  love  us  for  their  own 
sake  and  we  love  them  for  love’s  sake.  We  live  by 
love,  we  die  for  love,  and  yet  we  never  find  it,  but  only 


490 


HYPATIA. 


selfishness  dressed  up  in  love’s  mask.  . . . And  then 
we  take  up  with  that,  poor,  fond,  self-blinded  creatures 
that  we  are ! and  in  spite  of  the  poisoned  hearts  around 
us,  persuade  ourselves  that  our  latest  asp’s  egg,  at 
least,  will  hatch  into  a dove,  and  that  though  all  men 
are  faithless,  our  own  tyrant  can  never  change,  for  he 
is  more  than  man ! ” 

“But  he  has  deceived  you!  You  have  found  out 
your  mistake.  Leave  him,  then,  as  he  deserves ! ” 
Pelagia  looked  up,  with  something  of  a tender  smile. 
“ Poor  darling ! Little  do  you  know  of  love ! ” 

Philammon,  utterly  bewildered  by  this  newest  and 
strangest  phase  of  human  passion,  could  only  gasp 
out, 

“ But  do  you  not  love  me,  too,  my  sister  ? ” 

“Do  I not  love  you  ? But  not  as  I love  him!  Oh, 
hush,  hush ! you  cannot  understand  yet ! ” And  Pela- 
gia hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  while  convulsive  shud- 
derings  ran  through  every  limb.  . . . 

“I  must  do  it!  I must!  I will  dare  everything, 
stoop  to  everything,  for  love’s  sake!  Go  to  her!  to 
the  wise  woman! — to  Hypatia!  She  loves  you!  I 
know  that  she  loves  you!  She  will  hear  you,  though 
she  will  not  me ! ” 

“ Hypatia  ? Do  you  know  that  she  was  sitting  there 
unmoved  at — in  the  theatre  ? ” 

“ She  was  forced ! Orestes  compelled  her ! Miriam 
told  me  so.  And  I saw  it  in  her  face.  As  I passed 
beneath  her,  I looked  up;  and  she  was  as  pale  as  ivory, 
trembling  in  every  limb.  There  was  a dark  hollow 
round  her  eyes — she  had  been  weeping,  I saw.  And  I 
sneered  in  my  mad  self-conceit,  and  said,  ‘ She  looks  as 
if  she  was  going  to  be  crucified,  not  married ! ’ ... 

But  now,  now!  Oh,  go  to  her!  Tell  her  that  I will 
give  her  all  I have— jewels,  money,  dresses,  house! 


HYPATIA. 


491 


Tell  her  that  I — I — entreat  her  pardon,  that  I will 
crawl  to  her  feet  myself  and  ask  it,  if  she  requires! 
Only  let  her  teach  me — teach  me  to  he  wise  and  good, 
and  honored,  and  respected,  as  she  is ! Ask  her  to  tell 
a poor  broken-hearted  woman  her  secret.  She  can 
make  old  W ulf,  and  him,  and  Orestes  even,  and  the 
magistrates,  respect  her.  . . . Ask  her  to  teach  me 
how  to  be  like  her,  and  to  make  him  respect  me  again, 
and  I will  give  her  all — all! ” 

Philammon  hesitated.  Something  within  warned 
him,  as  the  Demon  used  to  warn  Socrates,  that  his 
errand  would  be  bootless.  He  thought  of  the  theatre, 
and  of  that  firm,  compressed  lip;  and  forgot  the  hol- 
low eye  of  misery  which  accompanied  it,  in  his  wrath 
against  his  lately  worshipped  idol. 

“ Oh,  go ! go ! I tell  you  it  was  against  her  will.  She 
felt  for  me — I saw  it — O God!  when  I did  not  feel  for 
myself!  And  I hated  her,  because  she  seemed  to  de- 
spise me  in  my  fool’s  triumph  ? She  cannot  despise  me 
now  in  my  misery.  . . . Go!  Go!  or  you  will  drive  me 
to  the  agony  of  going  myself.” 

There  was  but  one  thing  to  be  done. 

“ You  will  wait,  then,  here  ? You  will  not  leave  me 
again  ? ” 

“Yes.  But  you  must  be  quick!  If  he  finds  out  that 
I am  away,  he  may  fancy.  . . . Ah,  heaven ! let  him 
kill  me, but  never  let  him  be  jealous  of  me ! Go  now! 
this  moment!  Take  this  as  an  earnest — the  cestus 
which  I wore  there.  Horrid  thing ! I hate  the  sight 
of  it ! But  I brought  it  with  me  on  purpose,  or  I would 
have  thrown  it  into  the  canal.  There;  say  it  is  an 
earnest — only  an  earnest — of  what  I will  give  her ! ” 

In  ten  minutes  more  Philammon  was  in  Hypatia’s 
hall.  The  household  seemed  full  of  terror  and  disturb- 
ance; the  hall  was  full  of  soldiers.  At  last  Hypatia’s 


492 


HYPATIA. 


favorite  maid  passed,  and  knew  him.  Her  mistress 
could  not  speak  with  any  one.  Where  was  Theon, 
then  ? He,  too,  had  shut  himself  up.  Never  mind. 
Philammon  must,  would  speak  with  him.  And  he 
pleaded  so  passionately  and  so  sweetly,  that  the  soft- 
hearted damsel,  unable  to  resist  so  handsome  a suppli- 
ant, undertook  his  errand,  and  led  him  up  to  the  library, 
where  Theon,  pale  as  death,  was  pacing’  to  and  fro  ap- 
parently half  beside  himself  with  terror. 

Philammon's  breathless  message  fell  at  first  upon 
unheeding  ears. 

“A  new  pupil,  sir!  Is  this  a time  for  pupils;  when 
my  house,  my  daughter's  life,  is  not  safe  ? Wretch 
that  I am ! And  have  I led  her  into  the  snare  ? I, 
with  my  vain  ambition  and  covetousness!  Oh,  my 
child!  my  child!  my  one  treasure!  Oh,  the  double 
curse  which  will  light  upon  me,  if " 

“ She  asks  for  but  one  interview." 

“ With  my  daughter,  sir?  Pelagia!  Will  you  insult 
me  ? Do  you  suppose,  even  if  her  own  pity  should  so 
far  tempt  her  to  degrade  herself,  that  I could  allow 
her  so  to  contaminate  her  purity  ? ” 

“Your  terror,  sir,  excuses  your  rudeness." 

“ Rudeness,  sir  ? The  rudeness  lies  in  your  intruding 
on  us  at  such  a moment." 

“ Then  this,  perhaps,  may,  in  your  eyes  at  least,  ex- 
cuse me  in  my  turn."  Philammon  held  out  the  cestus. 
“ You  are  a better  judge  of  its  value  than  I.  But  I am 
commissioned  to  say,  that  it  is  only  an  earnest  of  what 
she  will  give,  willingly  and  at  once,  even  to  the  half  of 
her  wealth,  for  the  honor  of  becoming  your  daughter's 
pupil."  And  he  laid  the  jewelled  girdle  on  the  table. 

The  old  man  halted  in  his  walk.  The  emeralds  and 
pearls  shone  like  the  galax3T.  He  looked  at  them ; and 
walked  on  again  more  slowly.  . . . What  might  be 


HYPATIA. 


493 


their  value  ? What  might  it  not  be  ? At  least,  they 
would  pay  all  his  debts.  . . . And  after  hovering  to 
and  fro  for  another  minute  before  the  bait,  he  turned 
to  Philammon.  “ If  you  would  promise  to  mention  the 
thing  to  no  one ” 

“ I will  promise.” 

“And  in  case  my  daughter,  as  I have  a right  to  ex- 
pect, shall  refuse ” 

“ Let  her  keep  the  jewels.  Their  owner  has  learnt, 
thank  God,  to  despise  and  hate  them ! Let  her  keep 
the  jewels — and  my  curse!  For  God  do  so  to  me, 
and  more  also,  if  I ever  see  her  face  again ! ” 

The  old  man  had  not  heard  the  latter  part  of  Philam- 
mon’s  speech.  He  had  seized  his  bait  as  greedily  as  a 
crocodile,  and  hurried  off  with  it  into  HypatiAs  cham- 
ber, while  Philammon  stood  expectant : possessed  with 
a new  and  fearful  doubt.  “ Degrade  herself  ? ” “ Con- 
taminate her  purity!”  If  that  notion  were  to  be  the 
fruit  of  all  her  philosophy  ? If  selfishness,  pride,  Phari- 
saism, were  all  its  outcome  ? Why — had  they  not 
been  its  outcome  already  ? When  had  he  seen  her 
helping,  even  pitying,  the  poor,  the  outcast  ? When 
had  he  heard  from  her  one  word  of  real  sjunpathy  for 
the  sorrowing;  for  the  sinful?  . . . He  was  still  lost 
in  thought  when  Theon  re-entered,  bringing  a letter. 

“From  Hypatia  to  her  well-beloved  pupil. 

“ I pity  you — how  should  I not  ? And  more,  I thank 
you  for  this  your  request,  for  it  shows  me  that  my 
unwilling  presence  at  the  hideous  pageant  of  to-daj^, 
has  not  alienated  from  me  a soul  of  which  I had  cher- 
ished the  noblest  hopes,  for  which  I had  sketched  out 
the  loftiest  destiny.  But — how  shall  I say  it  ? Ask 
yourself  whether  a change — apparently  impossible — 
must  not  take  place  in  her  for  whom  you  plead,  before 


494 


HYPATIA. 


she  and  I can  meet?  I am  not  so  inhuman  as  to 
blame  you  for  having*  asked  me;  I do  not  even  blame 
her  for  being  what  she  is.  She  does  but  follow  her 
nature;  who  can  be  angry  with  her,  if  destiny  have 
informed  so  fair  an  animal  with  a too  gross  and  earthly 
spirit  ? Why  weep  over  her  ? Dust  she  is,  and  unto 
dust  she  will  return:  while  you,  to  whom  a more 
divine  spark  was  allotted  at  your  birth,  must  rise,  and 
unrepining,  leave  below  you  one  only  connected  with 
you  by  the  unreal  and  fleeting  bonds  of  fleshly  kin.” 

Philammon  crushed  the  letter  together  in  his  hand, 
and  strode  from  the  house  without  a word. 

The  philosopher  had  no  gospel  then  for  the  harlot ! 
No  word  for  the  sinner,  the  degraded ! Destiny,  for- 
sooth! She  was  to  follow  her  destiny,  and  be  base, 
miserable,  self-condemned.  She  was  to  crush  the  voice 
of  conscience  and  reason,  as  often  as  it  awoke  within 
her,  and  compel  herself  to  believe  that  she  was  bound 
to  be  that  which  she  knew  herself  bound  not  to  be. 
She  was  to  shut  her  eyes  to  that  present  palpable 
misery  which  was  preaching  to  her,  with  the  voice 
of  God  himself,  that  the  wages  of  sin  are  death.  Dust 
she  was,  and  unto  dust  she  will  return!  Oh,  glorious 
hope  for  her,  for  him,  who  felt  as  if  an  eternity  of  bliss 
would  be  worthless,  if  it  parted  him  from  his  new- 
found treasure!  Dust  she  was,  and  unto  dust  she 
must  return! 

Hapless  Hypatia!  If  she  must  needs  misapply, 
after  the  fashion  of  her  school,  a text  or  two  here  and 
there  from  the  Hebrew  scriptures,  what  suicidal 
fantasy  set  her  on  quoting  that  one?  For  now,  upon 
PhilammoiTs  memory  flashed  up  in  letters  of  light, 
old  words  forgotten  for  months  — and  ere  he  was 
aware,  he  found  himself  repeating  aloud  and  passion- 


HYPATIA. 


495 


ately,  “ I believe  in  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  the  resur- 
rection of  the  body,  and  the  life  everlasting,”  . . . and 
then  clear  and  fair  arose  before  him  the  vision  of  the 
God-man,  as  He  lay  at  meat  in  the  Pharisee’s  house ; 
and  of  her  who  washed  His  feet  with  tears,  and  wiped 
them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head.  . . . And  from  the 
depths  of  his  agonized  heart  arose  the  prayer,  “ Blessed 
Magdalene,  intercede  for  her!” 

So  high  he  could  rise:  but  not  beyond.  For  the 
notion  of  that  God-man  was  receding  fast  to  more  and 
more  awful  and  abysmal  heights,  in  the  minds  of  a 
generation  who  were  forgetting  His  love  in  His  power, 
and  practically  losing  sight  of  His  humanity  in  their 
eager  doctrinal  assertion  of  His  Divinity.  And  Plii- 
lammon’s  heart  re-echoed  the  spirit  of  his  age,  when  he 
felt  that  for  an  apostate  like  himself  it  were  presump- 
tuous to  entreat  for  any  light  or  help  from  the  foun- 
tain-head itself.  He  who  had  denied  his  Lord,  he  who 
had  voluntarily  cut  himself  off  from  the  communion  of 
the  Catholic  Church — how  could  he  restore  himself  ? 
How  could  he  appease  the  wrath  of  Him  who  died  on 
the  Cross,  save  by  years  of  bitter  supplication  and  self- 
punishment ? . . . 

“Fool!  Vain  and  ambitious  fool  that  I have  been! 
For  this  I threw  away  the  faith  of  my  childhood! 
For  this  I listened  to  words  at  which  I shuddered ; 
crushed  down  my  own  doubts  and  disgusts;  tried  to 
persuade  myself  that  I could  reconcile  them  with 
Christianity — that  I could  make  a lie  fit  into  the  truth ! 
For  this  I puffed  myself  up  in  the  vain  hope  of  becom- 
ing not  as  other  men  are — superior,  forsooth,  to  my 
kind ! It  was  not  enough  for  me  to  be  a man  made  in 
the  image  of  God:  but  I must  needs  become  a god 
myself,  knowing  good  and  evil.  And  here  is  the  end! 
I call  upon  my  fine  philosophy  to  help  me  once,  in  one 


496 


HYPATIA. 


real  practical  liuman  struggle,  and  it  folds  its  arms 
and  sits  serene  and  silent,  smiling  upon  my  misery! 
0 fool,  fool,  thou  art  filled  with  the  fruit  of  thy  own 
devices!  Back  to  the  old  faith!  Home  again,  thou 
wanderer!  And  yet  how  home?  Are  not  the  gates 
shut  against  me  ? Perhaps  against  her  too.  . . . 
What  if  she,  like  me,  were  a baptized  Christian  ? ” 
Terrible  and  all  but  hopeless  that  thought  flashed 
across  him,  as  in  the  first  revolution  of  his  conscience 
he  plunged  utterly  and  implicitly  back  again  into  the 
faith  of  his  childhood,  and  all  the  dark  and  cruel  theo- 
ries popular  in  his  day  rose  up  before  him  in  all  their 
terrors.  In  the  innocent  simplicity  of  the  Laura  he 
had  never  felt  their  force;  but  he  felt  them  now.  If 
Pelagia  were  a baptized  woman,  what  was  before  her 
but  unceasing  penance  ? Before  her,  as  before  him,  a 
life  of  cold  and  hunger,  groans  and  tears,  loneliness 
and  hideous  soul-sickening  uncertainty.  Life  was  a 
dungeon  for  them  both  henceforth.  Be  it  so!  There 
was  nothing  else  to  believe  in.  No  other  rock  of  hope 
in  earth  or  heaven.  That  at  least  promised  a possi- 
bility of  forgiveness,  of  amendment,  of  virtue,  of  re- 
ward— ay,  of  everlasting  bliss  and  glory;  and  even  if 
she  missed  that,  better  for  her  the  cell  in  the  desert 
than  a life  of  self-contented  impurity ! If  that  latter 
were  her  destiny,  as  Hypatia  said,  she  should  at  least 
die  fighting  against  it,  defying  it,  cursing  it ! Better 
virtue  with  hell,  than  sin  with  heaven!  And  Hypatia 
had  not  even  promised  her  a heaven.  The  resurrec- 
tion of  the  flesh  was  too  carnal  a notion  for  her  refined 
and  lofty  creed.  And  so,  his  four  months’  dream  swept 
away  in  a moment,  he  hurried  back  to  his  chamber 
with  one  fixed  thought  before  him — the  desert;  a cell 
for  Pelagia,  another  for  himself.  There  they  would 
repent,  and  pray  and  mourn  out  life  side  by  side,  if 


HYPATIA. 


497 


perhaps  God  would  have  mercy  upon  their  souls.  Yet 
■ — perhaps,  she  might  not  have  been  baptized  at  all. 
And  then  she  was  safe.  Like  other  converts  from 
Paganism,  she  might  become  a catechumen,  and  go  on 
to  baptism,  where  the  mystic  water  would  wash  away 
in  a moment  all  the  past,  and  she  would  begin  life 
afresh,  in  the  spotless  robes  of  innocence.  Yet  he  had 
been  baptized,  he  knew  from  Arsenius,  before  he  left 
Athens;  and  she  was  older  than  he.  It  was  all  but 
impossible:  yet  he  would  hope;  and  breathless  with 
anxiety  and  excitement,  he  ran  up  the  narrow  stairs 
and  found  Miriam  standing  outside,  her  hand  upon  the 
bolt,  apparently  inclined  to  dispute  his  passage. 

“ Is  she  still  within  ? ” 

“ What  if  she  be  ? ” 

“Let  me  pass  into  my  own  room.” 

“Yours?  Who  has  been  paying  the  rent  for  you, 
these  four  months  past?  You!  What  can  you  say 
to  her?  What  can  you  do  for  her?  Young  pedant, 
you  must  be  in  love  yourself  before  you  can  help  poor 
creatures  who  are  in  love ! ” 

But  Philammon  pushed  past  her  so  fiercely,  that 
the  old  woman  was  forced  to  give  way,  and  writh  a 
sinister  smile  she  followed  him  into  the  chamber. 
Pelagia  sprang  toward  her  brother. 

“ Will  she  ? — will  she  see  me  ? ” 

“ Let  us  talk  no  more  of  her,  my  beloved,”  said  Phi- 
lammon, laying  his  hands  gently  on  her  trembling 
shoulders,  and  looking  earnestly  into  her  eyes.  . . . 
“Better  that  we  two  should  work  out  our  deliverance 
for  ourselves,  without  the  help  of  strangers.  You  can 
trust  me  ? ” 

“You?  And  can  you  help  me?  Will  you  teach 
me  ? ” 

“Yes,  but  not  here.  ...  We  must  escape — Nay, 
32 


498 


HYPATIA. 


hear  me,  one  moment!  dearest  sister,  hear  me!  Are 
you  so  happy  here  that  you  can  conceive  of  no  better 
place!  And — and,  O God!  that  it  may  not  be  true 
after  all!— but  is  there  not  a hell  hereafter?” 

Pelagia  covered  her  face  with  her  hands — “The  old 
monk  warned  me  of  it ! ” 

“ Oh,  take  his  warning.”  . . . And  Philammon  was 
bursting  forth  with  some  such  words  about  the  lake 
of  fire  and  brimstone  as  he  had  been  accustomed  to 
hear  from  Pambo  and  Arsenius,  when  Pelagia  inter- 
rupted him, 

“ O Miriam ! Is  it  true  ? Is  it  possible  ? What  will 
become  of  me?”  almost  shrieked  the  poor  child. 

“ What  if  it  were  true  ? Let  him  tell  you  how  he 
will  save  you  from  it,”  answered  Miriam  quietly. 

“Will  not  the  Gospel  save  her  from  it — unbelieving 
Jew  ? Do  not  contradict  me!  I can  save  her.” 

“ If  she  does  what  ? ” 

“ Can  she  not  repent  ? Can  she  not  mortify  these 
base  affections  ? Can  she  not  be  forgiven  ? Oh,  my 
Pelagia!  forgive  me  for  having  dreamed  one  moment 
that  I could  make  you  a philosopher,  when  you  may 
be  a saint  of  God,  a ” 

He  stopped  short  suddenly,  as  the  thought  about 
baptism  flashed  across  him,  and  in  a faltering  voice 
asked,  “Are  you  baptized  ?” 

“ Baptized  ? ” asked  she,  hardly  understanding  the 
term. 

“Yes — by  the  bishop — in  the  church.” 

“Ah,”  she  said,  “ I remember  now.  . . . When  I was 
four  or  five  years  old.  ...  A tank,  and  women  un- 
dressing. . . . And  I was  bathed  too,  and  an  old  man 
dipped  m37  head  under  the  water  three  times.  ...  I 
have  forgotten  what  it  all  meant — it  was  so  long  ago. 

I wore  a white  dress,  I know,  afterward.” 


HYPATIA. 


499 


Philammon  recoiled  with  a groan. 

“ Unhappy  child!  May  God  have  mercy  on  you!” 

“Will  He  not  forgive  me,  then?  You  have  forgiven 
me.  He  ? — He  must  be  more  good  even  than  you. 
Why  not?” 

“ He  forgave  you  then,  freely,  when  you  were  bap- 
tized; and  there  is  no  second  pardon,  unless ” 

“Unless  I leave  my  love!”  shrieked  Pelagia. 

“When  the  Lord  forgave  the  blessed  Magdalene 
freely,  and  told  her  that  her  faith  had  saved  her — did 
she  live  on  in  sin,  or  even  in  the  pleasures  of  this 
world?  No!  though  God  had  forgiven  her,  she  could 
not  forgive  herself.  She  fled  forth  into  the  desert,  and 
there,  naked  and  barefoot,  clothed  only  with  hair,  and 
feeding  on  the  herb  of  the  field,  she  stayed  fasting  and 
praying  till  her  dying  day,  never  seeing  the  face  of 
man,  but  visited  and  comforted  by  angels  and  arch- 
angels. And  if  she,  she  who  never  fell  again,  needed 
that  long  penance  to  work  out  her  salvation — O Pela- 
gia, what  will  not  God  require  of  you,  who  have 
broken  your  baptismal  vows,  and  defiled  the  white 
robes,  which  the  tears  of  penance  only  can  wash  clean 
once  more  ? ” 

“ But  I did  not  know ! I did  not  ask  to  be  baptized ! 
Cruel,  cruel  parents,  to  bring  me  to  it ! And  God ! 
Oh,  why  did  He  forgive  me  so  soon  ? And  to  go  into 
the  deserts ! I dare  not ! I cannot ! See  me,  how  del- 
icate and  tender  I am ! I should  die  of  hunger  and 
cold!  I should  go  mad  with  fear  and  loneliness!  O 
brother,  brother,  is  this  the  Gospel  of  the  Christians  ? 
I came  to  you  to  be  taught  how  to  be  wise  and  good, 
and  respected,  and  you  tell  me  that  all  I can  do  is  to 
live  this  horrible  life  of  torture  here,  on  the  chance  of 
escaping  torture  forever!  And  how  do  I know  that  I 
shall  escape  it  ? How  do  I know  that  I shall  make 


500 


HYPATIA. 


myself  miserable  enough  ? How  do  I know  that  He 
will  forgive  me  after  all  ? Is  this  true,  Miriam  ? Tell 
me,  or  I shall  go  mad ! ” 

“Yes,”  said  Miriam,  with  a quiet  sneer,  “This  is  the 
gospel  and  good  news  of  salvation,  according  to  the 
doctrine  of  the  Nazarenes.” 

“I  will  go  with  you!”  cried  Philammon.  “I  will 
go ! I will  never  leave  you ! I have  my  own  sins  to 
wash  away ! — Happy  for  me  if  I ever  do  it ! — And  I 
will  build  you  a cell  near  mine,  and  kind  men  will 
teach  us,  and  we  will  pray  together  night  and  morn- 
ing, for  ourselves,  and  for  each  other,  and  weep  out 

our  weary  lives  together ” 

“ Better  end  them  here,  at  once ! ” said  Pelagia,  with 
a gesture  of  despair,  and  dashed  herself  down  on  the 
floor. 

Philammon  was  about  to  lift  her  up,  when  Miriam 
caught  him  by  the  arm,  and  in  a hurried  whisper — 
“Are  you  mad  ? Will  you  ruin  your  own  purpose  ? 
Why  did  you  tell  her  this  ? Why  did  you  not  wait — 
give  her  hope — time  to  collect  herself — time  to  wean 
herself  from  her  lover,  instead  of  terrifying  and  dis- 
gusting her  at  the  outset,  as  you  have  done  ? Have  you 
a man's  heart  in  you  ? No  word  of  comfort  for  that 
poor  creature,  nothing  but  hell,  hell,  hell  ? See  to  your 
own  chance  of  hell  first ! It  is  greater  than  you  fancy ! ” 
“ It  cannot  be  greater  than  I fancy ! ” 

“ Then  see  to  it.  For  her,  poor  darling!  Why,  even 
we  Jews,  who  know  that  all  you  Gentiles  are  doomed 
to  Gehenna  alike,  have  some  sort  of  hope  for  such  a 
poor  untaught  creature  as  that.” 

“And  why  is  she  untaught?  Wretch  that  you  are! 
You  have  had  the  training  of  her!  You  brought  her 
up  to  sin  and  shame!  You  drove  from  her  recollec- 
tion the  faith  in  which  she  was  baptized!” 


HYPATIA. 


501 


“ So  much  the  better  for  her,  if  the  recollection  of  it 
is  to  make  her  no  happier  than  it  does  already.  Better 
to  wake  unexpectedly  in  Gehenna  when  you  die,  than 
to  endure  over  and  above  the  dread  of  it  here.  And 
as  for  leaving  her  untaught,  on  your  own  showing  she 
has  been  taught  too  much  already.  Wiser  it  would 
be  in  you  to  curse  your  parents  for  having  had  her 
baptized,  than  me  for  giving  her  ten  years*  pleasure 
before  she  goes  to  the  pit  of  Tophet.  Come  now,  don’t 
be  angry  with  me.  The  old  Jewess  is  your  friend,  re- 
vile her  as  you  will.  She  shall  marry  this  Goth.” 

“An  Arian  heretic ! ” 

“ She  shall  convert  him  and  make  a Catholic  of  him, 
if  you  like.  At  all  events,  if  you  wish  to  win  her,  you 
must  win  her  my  way.  You  have  had  your  chance, 
and  spoiled  it.  Let  me  have  mine.  Pelagia,  darling! 
Up,  and  be  a woman!  We  will  find  a philtre  down- 
stairs to  give  that  ungrateful  man,  that  shall  make 
him  more  mad  about  you,  before  a day  is  over,  than 
ever  you  were  about  him.” 

“No!”  said  Pelagia,  looking  up.  “No  love-potions! 
No  poisons!  ” 

“ Poisons,  little  fool ! Do  you  doubt  the  old  woman’s 
skill  ? Do  you  think  I shall  make  him  lose  his  wits,  as 
Callisphyra  did  to  her  lover  last  year,  because  she 
would  trust  to  old  Megaera’s  drugs,  instead  of  coming 
to  me  ? ” 

“No!  No  drugs;  no  magic!  He  must  love  me 
really  or  not  at  all ! He  must  love  me  for  myself,  be- 
cause I am  worth  loving,  because  he  honors,  worships 
me,  or  let  me  die!  I,  whose  boast  was,  even  when  I 
was  basest,  that  I never  needed  such  mean  tricks,  but 
conquered  like  Aphrodite,  a queen  in  my  own  right! 
I have  been  my  own  love-charm;  when  I cease  to  be 
that,  let  me  die.” 


502 


HYPATIA. 


“ One  as  mad  as  the  other,”  cried  Miriam,  in  utter 
perplexity.  “Hist!  what  is  that  tramp  upon  the 
stairs  ? ” 

At  this  moment  heavy  footsteps  were  heard  ascend- 
ing* the  stairs.  . . . All  three  stopped  aghast : Philam- 
mon,  because  he  thought  the  visitors  were  monks  in 
search  of  him;  Miriam,  because  she  thought  they  were 
Orestes’  guards  in  search  of  her;  and  Pelagia,  from 
vague  dread  of  anything  and  everything.  . . . 

“ Have  you  an  inner  room  ? ” asked  the  Jewess. 

“ None.” 

The  old  woman  set  her  lips  firmly,  and  drew  her 
dagger.  Pelagia  wrapped  her  face  in  her  cloak,  and 
stood  trembling,  bowed  down,  as  if  expecting  another 
blow.  The  door  opened,  and  in  walked,  neither  monks 
nor  guards,  but  Wulf  and  Smid. 

“Heyday,  young  monk!”  cried  the  latter  worthy, 
with  a loud  laugh — “ Y eils  here,  too,  eh  ? At  your  old 
trade,  my  worthy  portress  of  hell-gate?  Well,  walk 
out  now;  we  have  a little  business  with  this  young 
gentleman.” 

And  slipping  past  the  unsuspecting  Goths,  Pelagia 
and  Miriam  hurried  down-stairs. 

“ The  young  one,  at  least,  seems  a little  ashamed  of 
her  errand.  . . . Now,  Wulf,  speak  low;  and  I will  see 
that  no  one  is  listening  at  the  door.” 

Philammon  faced  his  unexpected  visitors  with  a 
look  of  angry  inquiry.  What  right  had  they,  or  any 
man,  to  intrude  at  such  a moment  on  his  misery  and 
disgrace  ? . . . But  he  was  disarmed  the  next  instant 
by  old  Wulf,  who  advanced  to  him,  and  looking  him 
fully  in  the  face  with  an  expression  which  there  was 
no  mistaking,  held  out  his  broad  brown  hand. 

Philammon  grasped  it,  and  then  covering  his  face 
with  his  hands,  burst  into  tears. 


Then  covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  burst  into  tears 


HYPATIA. 


505 


“ You  did  right.  You  are  a brave  boy.  If  you  had 
died,  no  man  need  have  been  ashamed  to  die  your 
death.” 

“ Y ou  were  there,  then  ? " sobbed  Philammon. 

“We  were.” 

“And  what  is  more,”  said  Smid,  as  the  poor  boy 
writhed  at  the  admission,  “we  were  mightily  minded, 
some  of  us,  to  have  leapt  down  on  you  and  cut  you  a 
passage  out.  One  man  at  least,  whom  I know  of,  felt 
his  old  blood  as  hot  for  the  minute  as  a four-year  old's. 
The  foul  curs ! And  to  hoot  her,  after  all ! Oh,  that  I 
may  have  one  good  hour's  hewing  at  them  before  I die ! ” 

“And  you  shall!”  said  Wulf.  “Boy,  you  wish  to 
get  this  sister  of  yours  into  your  power  ? ” 

“ It  is  hopeless — hopeless ! She  will  never  leave  her 
— the  Amal.” 

“Are  you  so  sure  of  that  ? " 

“She  told  me  so  with  her  own  lips  not  ten  minutes 
ago.  That  was  she  who  went  out  as  you  entered ! ” 

A curse  of  astonishment  and  regret  burst  from 
Smid.  . . . 

“ Had  I but  known  her ! By  the  soul  of  my  fathers, 
she  should  have  found  that  it  was  easier  to  come  here 
than  to  go  home  again ! ” 

“Hush,  Smid!  Better  as  it  is.  Boy,  if  I put  her 
into  your  power,  dare  you  carry  her  off  ? ” 

Philammon  hesitated  one  moment. 

“What  I dare  you  know  already.  But  it  would  be 
an  unlawful  thing,  surely,  to  use  violence.” 

“Settle  your  philosopher's  doubts  for  yourself.  I 
have  made  my  offer.  I should  have  thought  a man  in 
his  senses  could  give  but  one  answer,  much  more  a 
mad  monk.” 

“You  forget  the  money  matters,  prince,”  said  Smid, 
with  a smile. 


506 


HYPATIA. 


“ I do  not.  But  I don’t  think  the  boy  so  mean  as  to 
hesitate  on  that  account.” 

“ He  may  as  well  know,  however,  that  we  promise 
to  send  all  her  trumpery  after  her,  even  to  the  Amal’s 
presents.  As  for  the  house,  we  won’t  trouble  her  to 
lend  it  us  longer  than  we  can  help.  We  intend  shortly 
to  move  into  more  extensive  premises,  and  open  busi- 
ness on  a grander  scale,  as  the  shop-keepers  say — eh, 
prince  ? ” 

“ Her  money  ? That  money  ? God  forgive  her  ! ” 
answered  Philammon.  “ Do  you  fancy  me  base  enough 
to  touch  it  ? But  I am  resolved.  Tell  me  what  to  do, 
and  I will  do  it.” 

“ You  know  the  lane  which  runs  down  to  the  canal, 
under  the  left  wall  of  the  house  ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“And  a door  in  the  corner  tower,  close  to  the  land- 
ing place  ? ” 

“ I do.” 

“ Be  there,  with  a dozen  stout  monks,  to-morrow,  an 
hour  after  sundown,  and  take  what  we  give  you.  After 
that,  the  concern  is  yours,  not  ours.” 

“Monks?”  said  Philammon.  “I  am  at  open  feud 
with  the  whole  order.” 

“ Make  friends  with  them,  then,”  shortly  suggested 
Smid. 

Philammon  writhed  inwardly.  “ It  makes  no  differ- 
ence to  you,  I presume,  whom  I bring  ? ” 

“No  more  than  it  does  whether  or  not  you  pitch  her 
into  the  canal,  and  put  a hurdle  over  her  when  you 
have  got  her,”  answered  Smid : “ which  is  what  a Goth 
would  do,  if  he  were  in  your  place.” 

“ Do  not  vex  the  poor  lad,  friend.  If  he  thinks  he 
can  mend  her  instead  of  punishing  her,  in  Freya’s 
name,  let  him  try.  You  will  be  there,  then?  And 


HYPATIA. 


507 


mind,  I like  you.  I liked  you  when  you  faced  that 
great  river-hog.  I like  you  better  now  than  ever;  for 
you  have  spoken  to-day  like  a Sagaman,  and  dared 
like  a hero.  Therefore  mind;  if  you  do  not  bring  a 
good  guard  to-morrow  night,  your  life  will  not  be  safe. 
The  whole  city  is  out  in  the  streets : and  Odin  alone 
knows  what  will  be  done,  and  who  will  be  alive  eight- 
and-forty  hours  hence.  Mind  you!  The  mob  may  do 
strange  things,  and  they  may  see  still  stranger  things 
done.  If  you  once  find  yourself  safe  back  here,  stay 
where  you  are  if  you  value  her  life  or  your  own.  And 
— if  you  are  wise,  let  the  men  whom  you  bring  with 
you  be  monks,  though  it  cost  your  proud  stomach " 

“ That's  not  fair,  prince ! You  are  telling  too  much ! " 
interrupted  Smid,  while  Philammon  gulped  down  the 
said  proud  stomach,  and  answered,  “ Be  it  so ! " 

“ I have  won  my  bet,  Smid,"  said  the  old  man,  chuck- 
ling, as  the  two  tramped  out  into  the  street,  to  the 
surprise  and  fear  of  all  the  neighbors,  while  the  chil- 
dren clapped  their  hands,  and  the  street  dogs  felt  it 
their  duty  to  bark  lustily  at  the  strange  figures  of 
their  unwonted  visitors. 

“No  play,  no  pay,  Wulf.  We  shall  see  tomior 
row." 

“ I knew  that  he  would  stand  the  trial ! I knew  he 
was  right  at  heart! " 

“At  all  events,  there  is  no  fear  of  his  ill-using  the 
poor  thing,  if  he  loves  her  well  enough  to  go  down  on 
his  knees  to  his  sworn  foes  for  her." 

“ I don't  know  that,"  answered  W ulf,  with  a shake 
of  the  head.  “ These  monks,  I hear,  fancy  that  their 
God  likes  them  the  better  the  more  miserable  they 
are ; so  perhaps  they  may  fancy  that  he  will  like  them 
all  the  more,  the  more  miserable  they  make  other 
people.  However,  it's  no  concern  of  ours." 


508 


HYPATIA. 


“ We  have  quite  enough  of  our  own  to  see  to  just 
now.  But  mind,  no  play,  no  pay.” 

“Of  course  not.  How  the  streets  are  filling!  We 
shall  not  be  able  to  see  the  guards  to-night,  if  this 
mob  thickens  much  more.” 

“We  shall  have  enough  to  do  to  hold  our  own,  per- 
haps. Do  you  hear  what  they  are  crying  there  ? 
‘Down  with  all  heathens!  Down  with  barbarians!' 
That  means  us,  you  know.” 

“ Do  you  fancy  no  one  understands  Greek  but  your- 
self ? Let  them  come.  ...  It  may  give  us  an  excuse. 
. . . And  we  can  hold  the  house  a week.” 

“But  how  can  we  get  speech  of  the  guards ?” 

“We  will  slip  round  by  water.  And  after  all,  deeds 
will  win  them  better  than  talk.  They  will  be  forced 
to  fight  on  the  same  side  as  we,  and  most  probably  be 
glad  of  our  help;  for  if  the  mob  attacks  any  one,  it 
will  begin  with  the  prefect.” 

“And  then — curse  their  shouting!  Let  the  soldiers 
once  find  our  Amal  at  their  head,  and  they  will  be 
ready  to  go  with  him  a mile,  where  they  meant  to  go 
a 3^ard.” 

“The  Goths  will,  and  the  Markmen,  and  those  Da- 
cians, and  Thracians,  or  whatever  the  Romans  call 
them.  But  I hardly  trust  the  Huns.” 

“The  curse  of  heaven  on  their  pudding  faces  and 
pigs'  eyes ! There  will  be  no  love  lost  between  us.  But 
there  are  not  twenty  of  them  scattered  in  different 
troops;  one  of  us  can  thrash  three  of  them;  and  they 
will  be  sure  to  side  with  the  winning  party.  Besides, 
plunder,  plunder,  comrade!  When  did  you  know  a 
Hun  turn  back  from  that,  even  if  he  were  only  on  the 
scent  of  a lump  of  tallow  ? ” 

“As  for  the  Gauls  and  Latins,”  . . . went  on  W ulf, 
meditatively,  “ they  belong  to  any  man  who  can  pay 
them.”  . . 


HYPATIA. 


509 


“ Which  we  can  do,  like  all  wise  generals,  one  penny 
out  of  our  own  pocket,  and  nine  out  of  the  enemy's. 
And  the  Amal  is  stanch  ? 99 

“ Stanch  as  his  own  hounds,  now  there  is  something 
to  be  done  on  the  spot.  His  heart  was  in  the  right 
place  after  all.  I knew  it  all  along.  But  he  could 
never  in  his  life  see  four-and-twenty  hours  before  him. 
Even  now,  if  that  Pelagia  gets  him  under  her  spell 
again,  he  may  throw  down  his  sword,  and  fall  as  fast 
asleep  as  ever." 

“Never  fear:  we  have  settled  her  destiny  for  her, 
as  far  as  that  is  concerned.  Look  at  the  mob  before 
the  door!  We  must  get  in  by  the  postern-gate." 

“ Get  in  by  the  sewer,  like  a rat ! I go  my  own  way. 
Draw,  old  hammer  and  tongs ! or  run  away  ? " 

“Not  this  time."  And  sword  in  hand,  the  two 
marched  into  the  heart  of  the  crowd,  who  gave  way 
before  them  like  a flock  of  sheep. 

“ They  know  their  intended  shepherds  already,"  said 
Smid.  But  at  that  moment  the  crowd,  seeing  them 
about  to  enter  the  house,  raised  a yell  of  “Goths! 
Heathens!  Barbarians!"  and  a rush  from  behind 
took  place. 

“If  you  will  have  it,  then!"  said  Wulf.  And  the 
two  long  bright  blades  flashed  round  and  round  their 
heads,  redder  and  redder  every  time  they  swung  aloft. 
. . . The  old  men  never  even  checked  their  steady 
walk,  and  knocking  at  the  gate,  went  in,  leaving  more 
than  one  lifeless  corpse  at  the  entrance. 

“We  have  put  the  coal  in  the  thatch,  now,  with  a 
vengeance,"  said  Smid,  as  they  wiped  their  swords 
inside. 

“We  have.  Get  out  a boat  and  half  a dozen  men, 
and  I and  Goderic  will  go  round  by  the  canal  to  the 
palace,  and  settle  a thing  or  two  with  the  guards." 


510 


IIYPATIA. 


“ Why  should  not  the  Amal  go,  and  offer  our  help 
himself  to  the  prefect  ? ” 

“What?  Would  you  have  him  after  that  turn 
against  the  hound  ? For  truth  and  honor’s  sake,  he 
must  keep  quiet  in  the  matter.” 

“He  will  have  no  objection  to  keep  quiet — trust  him 
for  that!  But  don’t  forget  Sagaman  Moneybag,  the 
best  of  all  orators,”  called  Smid  laughingly  after  him, 
as  he  went  off  to  man  the  boat. 


HYPATIA. 


511 


CHAPTER  XXY. 

SEEKING  AFTER  A SIGN. 

“What  answer  has  he  sent  back,  father?"  asked 
Hypatia,  as  Theon  re-entered  her  chamber,  after  de- 
livering1 that  hapless  letter  to  Philammon. 

“Insolent  that  he  is!  he  tore  it  to  fragments  and 
fled  forth  without  a word.” 

“Let  him  go,  and  desert  us  like  the  rest,  in  our 
calamity ! ” 

“At  least  we  have  the  jewels.” 

“ The  jewels  ? Let  them  be  returned  to  their  owner. 
Shall  we  defile  ourselves  by  taking  them  as  wages  or 
anything — above  all,  for  that  which  is  unperformed  ? ” 

“ But,  my  child,  they  were  given  to  us  freely.  He 
bade  me  keep  them; — and — and,  to  tell  the  truth,  I 
must  keep  them.  After  this  unfortunate  failure,  be 
sure  of  it,  every  creditor  we  have  will  be  clamoring  for 
payment.” 

“ Let  them  take  our  house  and  furniture,  and  sell  us 
as  slaves,  then.  Let  them  take  all,  provided  we  keep 
our  virtue.” 

“ Sell  us  as  slaves  ? Are  you  mad  ? ” 

“Xot  quite  mad  yet,  father,”  answered  she  with  a 
sad  smile.  “ But  how  should  we  be  worse  than  we  are 
now,  were  we  slaves  ? Raphael  Aben-Ezra  told  me 
that  he  obeyed  my  precepts,  when  he  went  forth 
as  a houseless  beggar;  and  shall  I not  have  courage 
to  obey  them  myself,  if  the  need  come  ? The  thought 


512 


HYPATIA. 


of  his  endurance  has  shamed  my  luxury  for  this  many 
a month.  After  all,  what  does  the  philosopher  require 
hut  bread  and  water,  and  the  clear  brook  in  which  to 
wash  away  the  daily  stains  of  his  earthly  prison  house  ? 
Let  what  is  fated  come.  Hypatia  struggles  with  the 
stream  no  more ! ” 

“My  daughter!  And  have  you  given  up  all  hope? 
So  soon  disheartened!  What!  Is  this  paltry  accident 
to  sweep  away  the  purposes  of  years?  Orestes  re- 
mains still  faithful.  His  guards  have  orders  to  garri- 
son the  house  for  so  long  as  we  shall  require  them.” 
“Send  them  away,  then.  I have  done  no  wrong, 
and  I fear  no  punishment.” 

“ Y ou  do  not  know  the  madness  of  the  mob ; they 
are  shouting  your  name  in  the  streets  already  in  com- 
pany with  Pelagia’s.” 

Hypaita  shuddered.  Her  name  in  company  with 
Pelagia’s ! And  to  this  she  had  brought  herself ! 

“I  have  deserved  it!  I have  sold  myself  to  a lie  and 
disgrace ! I have  stooped  to  truckle,  to  intrigue ! I 
have  bound  myself  to  a sordid  trickster!  Father! 
never  mention  his  name  to  me  again!  I have  leagued 
myself  with  the  impure  and  the  blood -thirsty,  and  I 
have  my  reward!  No  more  politics  for  Hypatia  from 
henceforth,  my  father;  no  more  orations  and  lectures; 
no  more  pearls  of  divine  wisdom  cast  before  swine.  I 
have  sinned  in  divulging  the  secrets  of  the  Immortals 
to  the  mob.  Let  them  follow  their  natures!  Fool 
that  I was,  to  fancy  that  my  speech,  my  plots,  could 
raise  them  above  that  which  the  gods  had  made  them ! ” 
“ Then  you  give  up  our  lectures  ? Worse  and  worse! 
We  shall  be  ruined  utterly!” 

“We  are  ruined  utterly  already.  Orestes  ? There  is 
no  help  in  him.  I know  the  man  too  well,  my  father, 
not  to  know  that  he  would  give  us  up  to-morrow  to 


You  will  not  leave  me  ! ” cried  the  old  man,  terrified. 


HYPATIA. 


515 


the  fury  of  the  Christians,  were  his  own  base  life — even 
his  own  baser  office — in  danger.” 

“Too  true — too  true!  I fear,”  said  the  poor  old 
man,  wringing  his  hands  in  perplexity.  “ What  will 
become  of  us — of  you,  rather?  What  matter  what 
happens  to  the  useless  old  star-gazer  ? Let  him  die ! 
To-day  or  next  year  is  alike  to  him.  But  you — you ! 
Let  us  escape  by  the  canal.  We  may  gather  up 
enough,  even  without  these  jewels,  which  you  refuse, 
to  pay  our  voyage  to  Athens,  and  there  we  shall  be 
safe  with  Plutarch;  he  will  welcome  you — all  Athens 
will  welcome  you — we  will  collect  a fresh  school — and 
you  shall  be  Queen  of  Athens,  as  you  have  been  Queen 
of  Alexandria ! ” 

“No,  father.  What  I know,  henceforth  I will  know 
for  myself  only.  Hypatia  will  be,  from  this  day,  alone 
with  the  immortal  gods ! ” 

“You  will  not  leave  me?”  cried  the  old  man,  ter- 
rified. 

“Never  on  earth!  ” answered  she,  bursting  into  real 
human  tears,  and  throwing  herself  on  his  bosom. 
“Never — never!  father  of  my  spirit  as  well  as  of  my 
flesh!  the  parent  who  has  trained  me,  taught  me, 
educated  my  soul  from  the  cradle  to  use  her  wings! 
the  only  human  being  who  never  misunderstood  me — 
never  thwarted  me — never  deceived  me ! ” 

“ My  priceless  child ! And  I have  been  the  cause  of 
your  ruin ! ” 

“ Not  you ! a thousand  times  not  you ! I only  am  to 
blame!  I tampered  with  worldly  politics.  I tempted 
you  on  to  fancy  that  I could  effect  what  I so  rashly 
undertook.  Do  not  accuse  yourself  unless  you  wish  to 
break  my  heart!  We  can  be  happy  together  yet.  A 
palm-leaf  hut  in  the  desert,  dates  from  the  grove,  and 
water  from  the  spring — the  monk  dares  be  miserable 


516 


HYPATIA. 


alone  in  such  a dwelling-,  and  cannot  we  dare  to  be 
happ37  together  in  it  ? ” 

“ Then  you  will  escape  ? ” 

“Not  to-day.  It  were  base  to  flee  before  danger 
comes.  We  must  hold  out  at  our  post  to  the  last  mo- 
ment, even  if  we  dare  not  die  at  it  like  heroes.  And  to- 
morrow I go  to  the  lecture-room — to  the  beloved 
Museum,  for  the  last  time,  to  take  farewell  of  my 
pupils.  Unworthy  as  they  are,  I owe  it  to  myself  and 
to  philosophy  to  tell  them  why  I leave  them.” 

“It  will  be  too  dangerous — indeed  it  will!” 

“ I could  take  the  guards  with  me,  then.  And  yet 
— no.  . . . They  shall  never  have  occasion  to  impute 
fear  to  the  philosopher.  Let  them  see  her  go  forth  as 
usual  on  her  errand,  strong*  in  the  courage  of  innocence, 
secure  in  the  protection  of  the  gods.  So,  perhaps, 
some  sacred  awe,  some  suspicion  of  her  divineness, 
may  fall  on  them  at  last.” 

“ I must  go  with  you.” 

“No,  I go  alone.  You  might  incur  danger  where  I 
am  safe.  After  all,  I am  a woman.  . . . And,  fierce 
as  they  are,  they  will  not  dare  to  harm  me.” 

The  old  man  shook  his  head. 

“Look  now,”  she  said  smilingly,  laying  her  hands 
on  his  shoulders,  and  looking  into  his  face.  . . . “You 
tell  me  that  I am  beautiful,  you  know;  and  beauty 
will  tame  the  lion.  Do  you  not  think  that  this  face 
might  disarm  even  a monk  ?” 

And  she  laughed  and  blushed  so  sweetly,  that  the 
old  man  forgot  his  fears,  as  she  intended  that  he 
should,  and  kissed  her,  and  went  his  way  for  the  time 
being  to  command  all  manner  of  hospitalities  to  the 
soldiers,  whom  he  prudently  determined  to  keep  in  his 
house  as  long  as  he  could  make  them  stay  there;  in 
pursuance  of  which  wise  purpose  he  contrived  not  to 


HYPATIA. 


517 


see  a great  deal  of  pleasant  flirtation  between  his 
valiant  defenders  and  Hypatia’s  maids,  who,  by  no 
means  so  prudish  as  their  mistress,  welcomed  as  a 
rare  boon  from  heaven  an  afternoon’s  chat  with  twenty 
tall  men  of  war. 

So  they  jested  and  laughed  below,  wffiile  old  Theon, 
having  brought  out  the  very  best  old  wine,  and  actu- 
ally proposed  in  person,  by  way  of  mending  matters, 
the  health  of  the  Emperor  of  Africa,  locked  himself 
into  the  library,  and  comforted  his  troubled  soul  with 
a tough  problem  of  astronomy,  which  had  been  haunt- 
ing him  the  whole  day,  even  in  the  theatre  itself.  But 
Hypatia  sat  still  in  her  chamber,  her  face  buried  in 
her  hands,  her  heart  full  of  many  thoughts,  her  eyes 
of  tears.  She  had  smiled  away  her  father’s  fears;  she 
could  not  smile  away  her  own. 

She  felt,  she  hardly  knew  why,  but  she  felt  as  clearly 
as  if  a god  had  proclaimed  it  to  her  bodily  ears,  that 
the  crisis  of  her  life  was  come;  that  her  political  and 
active  career  was  over,  and  that  she  must  now  be 
content  to  be  for  herself  and  in  herself  alone,  all  that 
she  was,  or  might  become.  The  world  might  be  re- 
generated: but  not  in  her  day;  the  gods  restored,  but 
not  by  her.  It  was  a fearful  discovery — and  yet  hardly 
a discovery.  Her  heart  had  told  her  for  years  that 
she  was  hoping  against  hope — that  she  was  struggling 
against  a stream  too  might3r  f°r  her.  And  now  the 
moment  had  come  when  she  must  either  be  swept 
helpless  down  the  current,  or,  by  one  desperate  effort, 
win  firm  land,  and  let  the  tide  roll  on  its  own  way 
henceforth.  . . . Its  own  way?  ...  Not  the  way  of 
the  gods,  at  least;  for  it  was  sweeping  their  names 
from  off  the  earth.  What  if  they  did  not  care  to 
be  known  ? What  if  they  were  weary  of  worship 
and  reverence  from  mortal  men,  and,  self-sufficing 


518 


HYPATIA. 


in  their  own  perfect  bliss,  recked  nothing  for  the  weal 
or  woe  of  earth  ? Must  it  not  he  so  ? Had  she  not 
proof  of  it  in  everything  which  she  beheld  ? What  did 
Isis  care  for  her  Alexandria  ? What  did  Athene  care 
for  Athens?  . . . And  yet  Homer  and  Hesiod,  and 
those  old  Orphic  singers,  were  of  another  mind.  . . . 
Whence  got  they  that  strange  fancy  of  gods  coun- 
selling, warring,  intermarrying  with  mankind,  as  with 
some  kindred  tribe  ? 

“Zeus,  father  of  gods  and  men.”  . . . Those  were 
words  of  hope  and  comfort.  . . . But  were  they  true  ? 
Father  of  men  ? Impossible ! not  father  of  Pelagia, 
surely.  Not  father  of  the  base,  the  foul,  the  ignorant. 
. . . Father  of  heroic  souls,  only,  the  poets  must  have 
meant.  . . . But  where  were  the  heroic  souls  now  ? 
W as  she  one  ? If  so,  why  was  she  deserted  by  the 
upper  powers  in  her  utter  need  ? Was  the  heroic  race 
indeed  extinct?  Was  she  merely  assuming,  in  her 
self-conceit,  an  honor  to  which  she  had  no  claim  ? Or 
was  it  all  a dream  of  these  old  singers  ? Had  they, 
as  some  bold  philosophers  had  said,  invented  gods  in 
their  own  likeness,  and  palmed  off  on  the  awe  and  ad- 
miration of  men  their  own  fair  phantoms?  ...  It 
must  be  so.  If  they  were  gods,  to  know  them  was  the 
highest  bliss  of  man.  Then  would  they  not  teach  men 
of  themselves,  unveil  their  own  loveliness  to  a chosen 
few,  even  for  the  sake  of  their  own  honor,  if  not,  as 
she  had  dreamed  once,  from  love  to  those  who  bore  a 
kindred  flame  to  theirs  ? . . . What  if  there  were  no 
gods  ? What  if  the  stream  of  fate,  which  was  sweep- 
ing away  their  names,  were  the  only  real  power  ? 
What  if  that  old  Pyrrhonic  notion  were  the  true  solu- 
tion of  the  problem  of  the  universe?  What  if  there 
were  no  centre,  no  order,  no  rest,  no  goal — but  only  a 
perpetual  flux,  a down-rushing  change  ? And  before 


HYPATIA. 


519 


her  dizzy  brain  and  heart  arose  that  awful  vision  of 
Lucretius,  of  the  homeless  Universe  falling*,  falling, 
falling,  forever  from  nowhence  toward  nowhither 
through  the  unending  ages,  by  causeless  and  unceasing 
gravitation,  while  the  changes  and  efforts  of  all  mortal 
things  were  but  the  jostling  of  the  dust-atoms  amid 
the  everlasting  storm.  . . . 

It  could  not  be!  There  was  a truth,  a virtue,  a 
beauty,  a nobleness,  which  could  never  change,  but 
which  were  absolute,  the  same  forever.  The  God- 
given  instinct  of  her  woman's  heart  rebelled  against 
her  intellect,  and,  in  the  name  of  God,  denied  its  lie. 
. . . Yes — there  was  virtue,  beauty.  . . . And  yet — 
might  not  they,  too,  be  accidents  of  that  enchant- 
ment, which  man  calls  mortal  life;  temporary  and 
mutable  accidents  of  consciousness;  brilliant  sparks, 
struck  out  by  the  clashing  of  the  dust-atoms  ? Who 
could  tell  ? 

There  were  those  once  who  could  tell.  Did  not 
Plotinus  speak  of  a direct  mystic  intuition  of  the  Deity, 
an  enthusiasm  without  passion,  still  intoxication  of 
the  soul,  in  which  she  rose  above  life,  thought,  reason, 
herself,  to  that  which  she  contemplated,  the  absolute 
and  first  One,  and  united  herself  with  that  One,  or 
rather,  became  aware  of  that  union  which  had  existed 
from  the  first  moment  in  which  she  emanated  from 
the  One  ? Six  times  in  a life  of  sixty  years  had  Plotinus 
risen  to  that  height  of  mystic  union,  and  known  herself 
to  be  a part  of  God.  Once  had  Porphyry  attained  the 
same  glory.  Hypatia,  though  often  attempting,  had 
never  yet  succeeded  in  attaining  to  any  distinct  vision 
of  a being  external  to  herself ; though  practice,  a firm 
will,  and  a powerful  imagination,  had  long  since  made 
her  an  adept  in  producing,  almost  at  will,  that  mys- 
terious trance,  which  was  the  preliminary  step  to 


520 


HYPATIA. 


supernatural  vision.  But  her  delight  in  the  brilliant, 
and,  as  she  held,  divine  imaginations,  in  which  at  such 
times  she  revelled,  had  been  always  checked  and  chilled 
by  the  knowledge  that,  in  such  matters,  hundreds  in- 
ferior to  her  in  intellect  and  in  learning — ay,  saddest 
of  all,  Christian  monks  and  nuns,  boasted  themselves 
her  equals — indeed,  if  their  own  account  of  their  visions 
was  to  be  believed,  her  superiors — by  the  same  methods 
which  she  employed.  For  by  celibacy,  and  intense 
fasts,  perfect  bodily  quiescence,  an  intense  contempla- 
tion of  one  thought,  they,  too,  pretended  to  be  able  to 
rise  above  the  body  into  the  heavenly  regions,  and  to 
behold  things  unspeakable,  which,  nevertheless,  like 
most  other  unspeakable  things,  contrived  to  be  most 
carefully  detailed  and  noised  abroad.  . . . And  it  was 
with  a half  feeling  of  shame  that  she  prepared  herself 
that  afternoon  for  one  more,  perhaps  one  last  attempt, 
to  scale  the  heavens,  as  she  recollected  how  many  an 
illiterate  monk  and  nun,  from  Constantinople  to  the 
Thebaid,  was  probably  employed  at  that  moment  ex- 
actly as  she  was.  Still,  the  attempt  must  be  made. 
In  that  terrible  abyss  of  doubt,  she  must  have  some- 
thing palpable,  real;  something  beyond  her  own 
thoughts,  and  hopes,  and  speculations,  whereon  to  rest 
her  weary  faith,  her  weary  heart.  . . . Perhaps  this 
time  at  last  in  her  extremest  need,  a god  might  vouch- 
safe some  glimpse  of  his  own  beauty.  . . . Athene 
might  pity  at  last.  . . . Or,  if  not  Athene,  some  arche- 
type, angel,  demon.  . . . And  then  she  shuddered  at 
the  thought  of  those  evil  and  deceiving  spirits,  whose 
delight  it  was  to  delude  and  tempt  the  votaries  of  the 
gods,  in  the  forms  of  angels  of  light.  But  even  in 
the  face  of  that  danger,  she  must  make  the  trial  once 
again.  Was  she  not  pure  and  spotless  as  Athene’s 
self?  Would  not  her  innate  purity  enable  her  to  dis- 


HYPATIA. 


521 

cern,  by  an  instinctive  antipathy,  those  foul  beings 
beneath  the  fairest  mask  ? At  least  she  must  make 
the  trial.  . . . 

And  so,  with  a look  of  intense  humility,  she  began 
to  lay  aside  her  jewels  and  her  upper  robes.  Then, 
baring  her  bosom  and  her  feet,  and  shaking  her  golden 
tresses  loose,  she  laid  herself  down  upon  the  couch, 
crossed  her  hands  upon  her  breast,  and,  with  upturned 
ecstatic  eyes  waited  for  that  which  might  befall. 

There  she  lay,  hour  after  hour,  as  her  eye  gradually 
kindled,  her  bosom  heaved,  her  breath  came  fast;  but 


Hypatia. 


there  was  no  more  sign  of  life  in  those  straight  still 
limbs,  and  listless  feet  and  hands,  than  in  Pygmalion’s 
ivory  bride,  before  she  bloomed  into  human  flesh  and 
blood.  The  sun  sank  toward  his  rest ; the  roar  of  the 
city  grew  louder  and  louder  without;  the  soldiers 
revelled  and  laughed  below;  but  every  sound  passed 
through  unconscious  ears,  and  went  its  way  unheeded. 
Faith,  hope,  reason  itself  were  staked  upon  the  result 
of  that  daring  effort  to  scale  the  highest  heaven. 
And,  by  one  continuous  effort  of  her  practised  will, 
which  reached  its  highest  virtue,  as  mystics  hold,  in 
its  own  suicide,  she  chained  down  her  senses  from 


522 


HYPATIA. 


every  sight  and  sound,  and  even  her  mind  from  every 
thought,  and  lay  utterly  self-resigned,  self-emptied,  till 
consciousness  of  time  and  place  had  vanished,  and  she 
seemed  to  herself  alone  in  the  abyss. 

She  dared  not  reflect,  she  dared  not  hope,  she  dared 
not  rejoice,  lest  she  should  break  the  spell.  . . . Again 
and  again  had  she  broken  it  at  this  very  point,  by 
some  sudden  and  tumultuous  yielding  to  her  own  joy 
or  awe:  but  now  her  will  held  firm.  . . . She  did  not 
feel  her  own  limbs,  hear  her  own  breath.  . . . A light 
bright  mist,  an  endless  network  of  glittering  films, 
coming,  going,  uniting,  resolving  themselves,  was 
above  her  and  around  her.  ...  Was  she  in  the  body 
or  out  of  the  body  ? . . . 

****** 

The  network  faded  into  an  abyss  of  still  clear  light. 

A still  warm  atmosphere  was  around  her,  thrilling 
through  and  through  her.  . . . She  breathed  the  light, 
and  floated  in  it,  as  a mote  in  the  midday  beam.  . . . 
And  still  her  will  held  firm. 

* * * * * * 

Far  away,  miles,  and  aeons,  and  abysses  away, 
through  the  interminable  depths  of  glory,  a dark  and 
shadowy  spot. 

It  neared  and  grew.  ...  A dark  globe,  ringed  with 
rainbows.  . . . What  might  it  be  ? She  dared  not 
hope.  ...  It  came  nearer,  nearer,  nearer,  touched  her. 

. . . The  centre  quivered,  flickered,  took  form — a face. 

. . . A god's?  No — Pelagia's. 

Beautiful,  sad,  craving,  reproachful,  indignant,  aw- 
ful. . . . Hypatia  could  bear  no  more,  and  sprang  to 
her  feet  with  a shriek,  to  experience  in  its  full  bitter- 
ness the  fearful  revulsion  of  the  mystic,  when  the 
human  reason  and  will  which  he  has  spurned  reassert 
their  God-given  rights;  and  after  the  intoxication  of 
the  imagination,  comes  its  prostration  and  collapse. 


HYPATIA. 


523 


And  this,  then,  was  the  answer  of  the  gods!  The 
phantom  of  her  whom  she  had  despised,  exposed, 
spurned  from  her!  “ No,  not  their  answer — the  answer 
of  my  own  soul!  Fool  that  I have  been!  I have  been 
exerting  my  will  most  while  I pretended  to  resign  it 
most ! I have  been  the  slave  of  every  mental  desire, 
while  I tried  to  trample  upon  them.  What  if  that 
network  of  light,  that  blaze,  that  globe  of  darkness, 
have  been  like  the  face  of  Pelagia,  the  phantoms  of  my 
own  imagination — ay,  even  of  my  own  senses  ? What 
if  I have  mistaken  for  Deity  my  own  self  ? What  if  I 
have  been  my  own  light,  my  own  abyss  ? . . . Am  I 
not  my  own  abyss,  my  own  light — my  own  darkness  ? ” 
And  she  smiled  bitterly  as  she  said  it,  and  throwing 
herself  again  upon  the  couch,  buried  her  head  in  her 
hands,  exhausted  equally  in  body  and  in  mind. 

At  last  she  rose,  and  sat,  careless  of  her  dishevelled 
locks,  gazing  out  into  vacancy.  “ Oh,  for  a sign,  for  a 
token ! Oh,  for  the  golden  days  of  which  the  poets 
sang,  when  gods  walked  among  men,  fought  by  their 
sides  as  friends!  And  yet  . . . are  those  old  stories 
credible,  pious,  even  modest  ? Does  not  my  heart  re- 
volt from  them  ? Who  has  shared  more  than  I in 
Plato’s  contempt  for  the  foul  deeds,  the  degrading 
transformations,  which  Homer  imputes  to  the  gods  of 
Greece  ? Must  I stoop  to  think  that  gods  who  live  in 
a region  above  all  sense,  will  deign  to  make  themselves 
palpable  to  those  senses  of  ours  which  are  whole  aeons 
of  existence  below  them  ? — degrade  themselves  to  the 
base  accidents  of  matter?  Yes!  That,  rather  than 
nothing.  ...  Be  it  even  so.  Better,  better,  better,  to 
believe  that  Ares  fled  shrieking  and  wounded  from  a 
mortal  man — better  to  believe  in  Zeus’s  adulteries  and 
Hermes’s  thefts — than  to  believe  that  gods  have  never 
spoken  face  to  face  with  men ! Let  me  think,  lest  I go 


524 


HYPATIA. 


mad,  that  beings  from  that  unseen  world  for  which  I 
hunger,  have  appeared  and  held  communion  with 
mankind,  such  as  no  reason  or  sense  could  doubt — 
even  though  those  beings  were  more  capricious  and 
baser  than  ourselves!  Is  there,  after  all,  an  unseen 
world  ? Oh,  for  a sign,  a sign ! ” 

Haggard  and  dizzy,  she  wandered  into  her  “ cham- 
ber of  the  gods;”  a collection  of  antiquities,  which  she 
kept  there  rather  as  matters  of  taste  than  of  worship. 
All  around  her  they  looked  out  into  vacancy  with  their 
white  soulless  eyeballs,  their  dead  motionless  beauty, 
those  cold  dreams  of  the  buried  generations.  Oh,  that 
they  could  speak,  and  set  her  heart  at  rest!  At  the 
lower  end  of  the  room  stood  a Pallas,  completely  armed 
with  aegis,  spear,  and  helmet;  a gem  of  Athenian  sculp- 
ture, which  she  had  bought  from  some  merchants  after 
the  sack  of  Athens  by  the  Goths.  There  it  stood,  se- 
verely fair;  but  the  right  hand,  alas!  was  gone;  and 
there  the  maimed  arm  remained  extended,  as  if  in  sad 
mockery  of  the  faith  of  which  the  body  remained,  while 
the  power  was  dead  and  vanished. 

She  gazed  long  and  passionately  on  the  image  of  her 
favorite  goddess,  the  ideal  to  which  she  had  longed  for 
years  to  assimilate  herself;  till — was  it  a dream  ? was 
it  a frolic  of  the  dying  sunlight  ? or  did  those  lips  bend 
themselves  into  a smile  ? 

Impossible!  Ho,  not  impossible.  Had  not,  only  a 
few  years  before,  the  image  of  Hecate  smiled  on  a 
philosopher?  Were  there  not  stories  of  moving  im- 
ages, and  winking  pictures,  and  all  the  material  mir- 
acles by  which  a dying  faith  strives  desperately — not 
to  deceive  others — but  to  persuade  itself  of  its  own 
sanity  ? It  had  been — it  might  be — it  was! 

No!  there  the  lips  were,  as  they  had  been  from  the 
beginning,  closed  upon  each  other  in  that  stony  self- 


HYPATIA. 


525 


collected  calm,  which  was  only  not  a sneer.  The 
wonder,  if  it  was  one,  had  passed : and  now — did  her 
eyes  play  her  false,  or  were  the  snakes  round  that 
Medusa's  head  upon  the  shield  all  writhing*,  grinning, 
glaring  at  her  with  stony  eyes,  longing  to  stiffen  her 
with  terror  into  their  own  likeness  ? 

No!  that,  too,  passed.  Would  that  even  it  had 
stayed,  for  it  would  have  been  a sign  of  life!  She 
looked  up  at  the  face  once  more:  but  in  vain — the 
stone  was  stone;  and  ere  she  was  aware,  she  found 
herself  clasping  passionately  the  knees  of  the  marble. 

“Athene!  Pallas!  Adored!  Ever  Virgin!  Abso- 
lute reason,  springing  unbegotten  from  the  nameless 
One!  Hear  me!  Athene!  Have  mercy  on  me!  Speak, 
if  it  be  to  curse  me!  Thou  who  alone  wieldest  the 
lightnings  of  thy  father,  wield  them  to  strike  me  dead, 
if  thou  wilt;  only  do  something!  to  prove  thine  own 
existence — something  to  make  me  sure  that  anything 
exists  beside  this  gross  miserable  matter,  and  my 
miserable  soul.  I stand  alone  in  the  centre  of  the  uni- 
verse ! I fall  and  sicken  down  the  abyss  of  ignorance, 
and  doubt,  and  boundless  blank  and  darkness!  Oh, 
have  mercy!  I know  that  thou  art  not  this!  Thou 
art  everywhere  and  in  all  things!  But  I know  that 
this  is  a form  which  pleases  thee,  which  symbolizes  thy 
nobleness ! I know  that  thou  hast  deigned  to  speak  to 
those  who — oh!  what  do  I know?  Nothing!  nothing! 
nothing." 

And  she  clung  there,  bedewing  with  scalding  tears 
the  cold  feet  of  the  image,  while  there  was  neither 
sign,  nor  voice,  nor  any  that  answered. 

On  a sudden  she  was  startled  by  a rustling  near; 
and,  looking  round,  saw  close  behind  her  the  old  Jewess. 

“Cry  aloud!"  hissed  the  hag,  in  a tone  of  bitter 
scorn;  “cry  aloud,  for  she  is  a goddess.  Either  she  is 


526 


HYPATIA. 


talking,  or  pursuing,  or  she  is  on  a journey;  or  perhaps 
she  has  grown  old,  as  we  shall  all  do  some  day,  my 
pretty  lady,  and  she  is  too  cross  and  lazy  to  stir.  What ! 
her  haughty  doll  will  not  speak  to  her,  will  it  not  ? or 
even  open  its  eyes,  because  the  wires  are  grown  rusty  ? 
Well,  we  will  find  a new  doll  for  her,  if  she  chooses.” 
“Begone,  hag!  What  do  you  mean  by  intruding 
here  ? ” said  Hypatia,  springing  up ; but  the  old  woman 
went  on  coolly — 

“Why  not  try  the  fair  young  gentleman  over 
there  ? ” pointing  to  a copy  of  the  Apollo  which  we 
call  Belvedere — “ What  is  his  name  ? Old  maids  are 
always  cross  and  jealous,  you  know.  But  he — could 
not  be  cruel  to  such  a sweet  face  as  that.  Try  the 
fair  young  lad ! Or,  perhaps,  if  you  are  bashful,  the 
old  Jewess  might  try  him  for  you  ? ” 

These  last  words  were  spoken  with  so  marked  a sig- 
nificance, that  Hypatia,  in  spite  of  her  disgust,  found 
herself  asking  the  hag  what  she  meant.  She  made 
no  answer  for  a few  seconds,  but  remained  looking 
steadily  into  her  eyes  with  a glance  of  fire,  before 
which  even  the  proud  Hypatia,  as  she  had  done  once 
before,  quailed  utterly,  so  deep  was  the  understand- 
ing, so  dogged  the  purpose,  so  fearless  the  power,  which 
burned  within  those  withered  and  sunken  sockets. 

“ Shall  the  old  witch  call  him  up,  the  fair  young 
Apollo,  with  the  beauty-bloom  upon  his  chin  ? He 
shall  come!  He  shall  come!  I warrant  him  he  must 
come,  civilly  enough  when  old  Miriam’s  finger  is  once 
held  up.” 

“ To  you  ? Apollo,  the  god  of  light,  obey  a Jewess  ? ” 
“A  Jewess  ? And  you  a Greek  ? ” almost  yelled  the 
old  woman.  “And  who  are  you  who  ask  ? And  who 
are  your  gods,  your  heroes,  your  devils,  your  children 
of  yesterday,  compared  with  us  ? Y ou,  who  were  a 


HYPATIA. 


527 


set  of  half-naked  savages  squabbling  about  the  siege 
of  Troy,  when  our  Solomon,  amid  splendors  such  as 
Rome  and  Constantinople  never  saw,  was  controlling 
demons  and  ghosts,  angels  and  archangels,  principali- 
ties and  powers,  by  the  ineffable  name  ? What  science 
have  you  that  you  have  not  stolen  from  the  Egyptians 
and  Chaldees  ? And  what  had  the  Egyptians  which 
Moses  did  not  teach  them  ? And  what  have  the  Chal- 
dees which  Daniel  did  not  teach  them  ? What  does 
the  world  know  but  from  us,  the  lords  of  the  inner 
secrets  of  the  universe ! Come,  you  Greek  baby — as 
the  priests  in  Egypt  said  of  your  forefathers,  always 
children,  craving  for  a new  toy,  and  throwing  it  away 
the  next  day — come  to  the  fountain  head  of  all  your 
paltry  wisdom!  Name  what  you  will  see,  and  you 
shall  see  it ! ” 

Hypatia  was  cowed ; for  of  one  thing  there  was  no 
doubt  — that  the  woman  utterly  believed  her  own 
words;  and  that  was  a state  of  mind  of  which  she  had 
seen  so  little,  that  it  was  no  wonder  if  it  acted  on  her 
with  that  overpowering  sympathetic  force,  with  which 
it  generally  does,  and  perhaps  ought  to,  act  on  the 
human  heart.  Besides,  her  school  has  always  looked 
to  the  ancient  nations  of  the  East  for  the  primaeval 
founts  of  inspiration,  the  mysterious  lore  of  mightier 
races  long  gone  by.  . Might  she  not  have  found  it  now  ? 

The  Jewess  saw  her  advantage  in  a moment,  and 
ran  on,  without  giving  her  time  to  answer — 

“ What  sort  shall  it  be,  then  ? By  glass  and  water, 
or  by  the  moonlight  on  the  wall,  or  by  the  sieve,  or  b3r 
the  meal  ? By  the  cymbals,  or  by  the  stars  ? By  the 
table  of  the  twenty-four  elements,  by  which  the  empire 
was  promised  to  Theodosius  the  Great,  or  by  the  sacred 
counters  of  the  Assyrians,  or  by  the  sapphire  of  the 
Hecatic  sphere  ? Shall  I threaten,  as  the  Egyptian 


528 


HYPATIA. 


priests  used  to  do,  to  tear  Osiris  again  in  pieces,  or  to 
divulge  the  mysteries  of  Isis  ? I could  do  so  if  I chose; 
for  I know  them  all  and  more.  Or  shall  I use  the  in- 
effable name  on  Solomon's  seal,  which  we  alone,  of  all 
nations  of  the  earth,  know  ? No;  it  would  he  a pity  to 
waste  them  upon  a heathen.  It  shall  he  by  the  sacred 
wafer.  Look  here!  here  they  are,  the  wonder-working* 
atomies!  Eat  no  food  this  day,  except  one  of  these 
every  three  hours,  and  come  to  me  to  night  at  the 
house  of  your  porter,  Eudsemon,  bringing  with  yo u 
the  black  agate;  and  then,  why  then,  when  you  have 
the  heart  to  see,  you  shall  see ! " 

Hypatia  took  the  wafers,  hesitating — 

“ But  what  are  they  ? " 

“And  you  profess  to  explain  Homer?  Whom  did  I 
hear  the  other  morning  lecturing  away  so  glibly  on 
the  nepenthe  which  Helen  gave  the  heroes,  to  fill  them 
with  the  spirit  of  joy  and  love;  how  it  was  an  allegory 
of  the  inward  inspiration  which  flows  from  spiritual 
beauty,  and  all  that  ? — pretty  enough,  fair  lady;  but 
the  question  still  remains,  what  was  it  ? And  I say  it 
was  this.  Take  it  and  try,  and  then  confess,  that 
while  you  can  talk  about  Helen,  I can  act  her,  and 
know  a little  more  about  Homer  than  you  do,  after  all." 

“ I cannot  believe  you ! Give  me  some  sign  of  your 
power,  or  how  can  I trust  you  ? " 

“A  sign  ? A sign  ? Kneel  down,  then,  there,  with 
your  face  toward  the  north;  you  are  over  tall  for  the 
poor  old  cripple ! " 

“I!  I never  knelt  to  human  being." 

“ Then  consider  that  you  kneel  to  the  handsome  idol 
there,  if  you  will — but  kneel ! " 

And  constrained  by  that  glittering  eye,  Hypatia 
knelt  before  her. 

“ Have  you  faith  ? Have  you  desire  ? Will  you  sub- 


What  was  it  so  cold  that  she  was  clasping  in  her  arms  ? 


34 


HYPATIA. 


531 


mit  ? Will  you  obey  ? Self-will  and  pride  see  nothing-. 
If  you  do  not  give  up  yourself,  neither  God  nor  devil 
will  care  to  approach.  Do  you  submit  ? ” 

“ 1 do ! I do ! ” cried  poor  Hypatia,  in  an  agony  of 
curiosity  and  self-distrust,  while  she  felt  her  eye  quail- 
ing and  her  limbs  loosening  more  and  more  every  mo- 
ment under  that  intolerable  fascination. 

The  old  woman  drew  from  her  bosom  a crystal  and 
placed  the  point  against  Hypatia’s  breast.  A cold 
shiver  ran  through  her.  . . . The.  witch  waved  her 
hands  mysteriously  round  her  head,  muttering  from 
time  to  time.  “Down!  down,  proud  spirit!”  and  then 
placed  the  tips  of  her  skinny  fingers  on  the  victim’s 
forehead.  Gradually  her  eyelids  became  heavy : again 
and  again  she  tried  to  raise  them  and  dropped  them 
again  before  those  fixed  glaring  eyes  . . . and  in  an- 
other moment  she  lost  consciousness.  . . . 

When  she  awoke  she  was  kneeling  in  a distant  part 
of  the  room,  with  dishevelled  hair  and  garments. 
What  was  it  so  cold  that  she  was  clasping  in  her 
arms  ? The  feet  of  the  Apollo.  The  hag  stood  by 
her,  chuckling  to  herself  and  clapping  her  hands. 

“ How  came  I here  ? What  have  I been  doing  ? ” 
“Saying  such  pretty  things!  paying  the  fair  youth 
there  such  compliments,  as  he  will  not  be  rude  enough 
to  forget  in  his  visit  to-night.  A charming  prophetic 
trance  you  have  had.  Ah,  ah!  you  are  not  the  only 
woman  who  is  wiser  asleep  than  awake!  Well,  you 
will  make  a very  pretty  Cassandra — or  a Clytia,  if 
you  have  the  sense.  ...  It  lies  with  you,  my  fair  lady. 
Are  you  satisfied  now  ? Will  you  have  any  more 
signs  ? Shall  the  old  Jewess  blast  those  blue  eyes 
blind  to  show  that  she  knows  more  than  the  heathen  ? ” 
“Oh,  I believe  you — I believe,”  cried  the  poor  ex- 
hausted maiden.  “I  will  come;  and  yet ” 


532 


HYPATIA. 


“Ah ! yes ! Y ou  had  better  settle  first  how  he  shall 
appear.” 

“As  he  wills!  let  him  only  come!  Only  let  me  know 
that  he  is  a god.  Abamnon  said  that  gods  appeared 
in  a clear,  steady,  unbearable  light,  amid  a choir  of  all 
the  lesser  deities,  archangels,  principalities,  and  heroes, 
who  derive  their  lives  from  them/’ 

“Abamnon  was  an  old  fool,  then.  Do  you  think 
young  Phoebus  ran  after  Daphne  with  such  a mob  at 
his  heels  ? or  that  Jove,  when  he  swam  up  to  Leda, 
headed  a whole  Nile-flock  of  ducks,  and  plover,  and 
curlews  ? No,  he  shall  come  alone — to  you  alone;  and 
then  you  may  choose  for  yourself  between  Cassandra 
and  Clytia.  . . . Farewell.  Do  not  forget  your  wafers 
or  the  agate  either,  and  talk  with  no  one  between  now 
and  sunset.  And  then — my  pretty  lady!  ” 

And  laughing  to  herself,  the  old  hag  glided  from 
the  room. 

Hypatia  sat  trembling  with  shame  and  dread.  She, 
as  a disciple  of  the  more  purely  spiritualistic  school  of 
Porphyry,  had  always  looked  with  aversion,  with  all 
but  contempt,  on  those  theurgic  arts  which  were  so 
much  lauded  and  employed  by  Iamblicus,  Abamnon, 
and  those  who  clung  lovingly  to  the  old  priestly  rites 
of  Eg}rpt  and  Chaldasa.  They  had  seemed  to  her  vul- 
gar toys,  tricks  of  legerdemain,  suited  only  for  the 
wonder  of  the  mob.  . . . She  began  to  think  of  them 
with  more  favor  now.  How  did  she  know  that  the 
vulgar  did  not  require  signs  and  wonders  to  make 
them  believe  ? . . . How,  indeed  ? for  did  she  not  want 
such  herself  ? And  she  opened  Abamnon's  famous 
letter  to  Porphyry,  and  read  earnestly  over,  for  the 
twentieth  time,  his  subtle  justification  of  magic,  and 
felt  it  to  be  unanswerable.  Magic  ? What  was  not 
magical  ? The  whole  universe,  from  the  planets  over 


HYPATIA. 


533 


her  head  to  the  meanest  pebble  at  her  feet,  was  utterly 
mysterious,  ineffable,  miraculous,  influencing-  and  in- 
fluenced by  affinities  and  repulsions  as  unexpected,  as 
unfathomable,  as  those  which,  as  Abamnon  said,  drew 
the  gods  toward  those  sounds,  those  objects,  which, 
either  in  form,  or  color,  or  chemical  properties,  were 
symbolic  of,  or  akin  to  themselves.  What  wonder  in 
it,  after  all  ? Was  not  love  and  hatred,  sympathy  and 
antipathy,  the  law  of  the  universe  ? Philosophers, 
when  they  gave  mechanical  explanations  of  natural 
phenomena,  came  no  nearer  to  the  real  solution  of 
them.  The  mysterious  “ Why  ?”  remained  untouched. 
. . . All  their  analyses  could  only  darken  with  big 
words  the  plain  fact  that  the  water  hated  the  oil  with 
which  it  refused  to  mix,  the  lime  loved  the  acid  which 
it  eagerly  received  into  itself,  and  like  a lover,  grew 
warm  with  the  rapture  of  affection.  Why  not  ? What 
right  had  we  to  deny  sensation,  emotion,  to  them,  any 
more  than  to  ourselves  ? Was  not  the  same  universal 
spirit  stirring  in  them  as  in  us  ? And  was  it  not  by 
virtue  of  that  spirit  that  we  thought,  and  felt,  and 
loved  ? Then  why  not  they,  as  well  as  we  ? If  the 
one  spirit  permeated  all  things,  if  its  all-energizing 
presence  linked  the  flower  with  the  crystal  as  well  as 
with  the  demon  and  the  god,  must  it  not  link  together 
also  the  two  extremes  of  the  great  chain  of  being? 
bind  even  the  nameless  One  itself  to  the  smallest 
creature  which  bore  its  creative  impress  ? What 
greater  miracle  in  the  attraction  of  a god  or  angel,  by 
material  incense,  symbols,  and  spells,  than  in  the  at- 
traction of  one  soul  to  another  by  the  material  sounds 
of  the  human  voice?  Was  the  affinity  between  spirit 
and  matter  implied  in  that,  more  miraculous  than  the 
affinity  between  the  soul  and  body  ? — than  the  reten- 
tion of  that  soul  within  that  body  by  the  breathing  of 


534 


HYPATIA. 


material  air,  the  eating-  of  material  food  ? Or  even,  if 
the  physicists  were  right  and  the  soul  were  but  a ma- 
terial product  or  energy  of  the  nerves,  and  the  sole 
law  of  the  universe  the  laws  of  matter,  then  was  not 
magic  even  more  probable,  more  rational?  Was  it 
not  fair  by  every  analogy  to  suppose  that  there  might 
be  other,  higher  beings  than  ourselves,  obedient  to 
those  laws,  and  therefore  possible  to  be  attracted, 
even  as  human  beings  were  by  the  baits  of  material 
sights  and  sounds  ? ...  If  spirit  pervaded  all  things, 
then  was  magic  probable;  if  nothing  but  matter  had 
existence,  magic  was  morally  certain.  All  that  re- 
mained in  either  case  was  the  test  of  experience.  . . . 
And  had  not  that  test  been  applied  in  every  age,  and 
asserted  to  succeed  ? What  more  rational,  more  phi- 
losophic action,  than  to  try  herself  those  methods  and 
ceremonies  which  she  was  assured  on  every  hand  had 
never  failed  but  through  the  ignorance  or  unfitness  of 
the  neophyte  ? . . . Abamnon  must  be  right.  . . . She 
dared  not  think  him  wrong : for  if  this  last  hope  failed, 
what  was  there  left  but  to  eat  and  drink,  for  to-mor- 
row we  die  ? 


HYPATIA. 


535 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

MIRIAM’S  PLOT. 

He  who  has  worshipped  a woman,  even  against  his 
will  and  conscience,  knows  well  how  storm  may  follow 
storm,  and  earthquake  earthquake,  before  his  idol  be 
utterly  overthrown.  And  so  Philammon  found  that 
evening,  as  he  sat  pondering  over  the  strange  changes 
of  the  day;  for,  as  he  pondered,  his  old  feelings  toward 
Hypatia  began,  in  spite  of  the  struggles  of  his  con- 
science and  reason,  to  revive  within  him.  Not  only  pure 
love  of  her  great  loveliness,  the  righteous  instinct  which 
bids  us  welcome  and  honor  beauty,  whether  in  man  or 
woman,  as  something  of  real  worth — divine,  heavenly, 
ay,  though  we  know  not  how,  in  a most  deep  sense 
eternal;  which  makes  our  reason  give  the  lie  to  all 
merely  logical  and  sentimental  maunderings  of  moral- 
ists about  “ the  fleeting  hues  of  this  our  painted  clay ; ” 
telling  men,  as  the  old  Hebrew  Scriptures  tell  them, 
that  physical  beauty  is  the  deepest  of  all  spiritual 
symbols;  and  that  though  beauty  without  discretion 
be  the  jewel  of  gold  in  the  swine’s  snout,  yet  the  jewel 
of  gold — it  is  still  the  sacrament  of  an  inward  beauty, 
which  ought  to  be,  perhaps  hereafter  may  be,  fulfilled 
in  spirit,  and  in  truth.  Not  only  this,  which  whispered 
to  him  and  who  shall  say  that  the  whisper  was  of  the 
earth,  or  of  the  lower  world  ? “ She  is  too  beautiful 

to  be  utterly  evil ; ” but  the  very  defect  in  her  creed 


536 


HYPATIA. 


which  he  had  just  discovered,  drew  him  toward  her 
again.  She  had  no  gospel  for  the  Magdalene,  because 
she  was  a Pagan.  . . . That,  then,  was  the  fault  of  her 
Paganism,  not  of  herself.  She  felt  for  Pelagia:  but 
even  if  she  had  not,  was  not  that,  too,  the  fault  of  her 
Paganism  ? And  for  that  Paganism  who  was  to  be 
blamed?  She?  . . . Was  he  the  man  to  affirm  that? 
Had  he  not  seen  scandals,  stupidities,  brutalities, 
enough  to  shake  even  his  faith,  educated  a Christian  ? 
How  much  more  excuse  for  her,  more  delicate,  more 
acute,  more  lofty  than  he;  the  child,  too,  of  a heathen 
father  ? Her  perfections,  were  they  not  her  own  ? — 
her  defects,  those  of  her  circumstances  ? . . . And  had 
she  not  welcomed  him,  guarded  him,  taught  him,  hon- 
ored him  ? . . . Could  he  turn  against  her  ? — above  all 
now  in  her  distress — perhaps  her  danger?  Was  he 
not  bound  to  her,  if  by  nothing  else,  by  gratitude  ? 
Was  not  he,  of  all  men,  bound  to  believe  that  all  she 
required  to  make  her  perfect  was  conversion  to  the 
true  faith  ? . . . And  that  first  dream  of  converting 
her  arose  almost  as  bright  as  ever.  . . . Then  he  was 
checked  by  the  thought  of  his  first  failure.  . . . At 
least,  if  he  could  not  convert  her,  he  could  love  her, 
pray  for  her.  . . . No,  he  could  not  even  do  that;  for 
to  whom  could  he  pray  ? He  had  to  repent,  to  be  for- 
given, to  humble  himself  by  penitence,  perhaps  for 
years,  ere  he  could  hope  to  be  heard  even  for  himself, 
much  less  for  another.  . . . And  so  backward  and 
forward  swayed  his  hope  and  purpose,  till  he  was 
roused  from  his  meditation  by  the  voice  of  the  little 
porter,  summoning  him  to  his  evening  meal;  and  recol- 
lecting, for  the  first  time,  that  he  had  tasted  no  food 
that  day,  he  went  down,  half  unwillingly,  and  ate. 

But  as  he,  the  porter,  and  his  negro  wife  were  sitting 
silently  and  sadly  enough  together,  Miriam  came  in, 


HYPATIA. 


5S7 


apparently  in  high  good -humor,  and  lingered  a mo- 
ment on  her  way  to  her  own  apartments  up-stairs. 

“ Eh  ? At  supper  ? And  nothing  but  lentils  and 
watermelons,  when  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt  have  been 
famous  any  time  these  two  thousand  years.  Ah!  but 
times  are  changed  since  then!  ...  You  have  worn 
out  the  old  Hebrew  hints,  you  miserable  Gentiles  you, 
and  got  a Cgesar  instead  of  a Joseph!  Hist,  you 
hussies!  ” cried  she  to  the  girls  up-stairs,  clapping  her 
hands  loudly.  “Here!  bring  us  down  one  of  those 
roast  chickens,  and  a bottle  of  the  wine  of  wines — the 
wine  with  the  green  seal,  you  careless  daughters  of 
Midian,  with  your  wits  running  on  the  men,  Ell  war- 
rant, every  minute  Fve  been  out  of  the  house!  Ah, 
you’ll  smart  for  it  some  day,  you  daughters  of  Adam’s 
first  wife ! ” 

Down  came,  by  the  hands  of  one  of  the  Syrian  slave 
girls,  the  fowl  and  the  wine. 

“There,  now;  we’ll  all  sup  together.  Wine,  that 
maketh  glad  the  heart  of  man!  Youth,  you  were  a 
monk  once,  so  you  have  read  all  about  that,  eh  ? and 
about  the  best  wine  which  goes  down  sweetly,  causing 
the  lips  of  them  that  are  asleep  to  speak.  And  rare 
wine  it  was,  I warrant,  which  the  blessed  Solomon  had 
in  his  little  country  cellar  up  there  in  Lebanon.  We’ll 
try  if  this  is  not  a very  fair  substitute  for  it,  though. 
Come,  my  little  man-monkey,  drink,  and  forget  your 
sorrow!  You  shall  be  temple-sweeper  to  Beelzebub 
yet,  I promise  you.  Look  at  it  there,  creaming  and 
curding,  the  darling!  purring  like  a cat  at  the  very 
thought  of  touching  human  lips ! As  sweet  as  hone}7, 
as  strong  as  fire,  as  clear  as  amber!  Drink,  ye  chil- 
dren of  Gehenna;  and  make  good  use  of  the  little  time 
that  is  left  you  between  this  and  the  unquenchable 
fire ! ” 


538 


HYPATIA. 


And  tossing  a cup  of  it  down  her  own  throat,  as  if  it 
had  been  water,  she  watched  her  companions  with  a 
meaning  look,  as  they  drank. 

The  little  porter  followed  her  example  gallantly. 
Philammon  looked,  and  longed,  and  sipped  blushingly 
and  bashfully,  and  tried  to  fancy  that  he  did  not  care 
for  it ; and  sipped  again,  being  willing  enough  to  forget 
his  sorrow  also  for  a moment;  the  negress  refused 
with  fear  and  trembling — •"  She  had  a vow  on  her.’’ 

" Satan  possess  you  and  your  vow ! Drink,  you  coal 
out  of  Tophet!  Do  you  think  it  is  poisoned?  You, 
the  only  creature  in  the  world  that  I should  not  enjoy 
ill-using,  because  every  one  else  ill-uses  you  already 
without  my  help!  Drink,  I say,  or  Dll  turn  you  pea- 
green  from  head  to  foot ! ” 

The  negress  put  the  cup  to  her  lips,  and  contrived, 
for  her  own  reasons,  to  spill  the  contents  unobserved. 

“A  very  fine  lecture  that  of  the  Lady  Hypatia’s  the 
other  morning',  on  Helen’s  nepenthe,”  quoth  the  little 
porter,  growing  philosophic  as  the  wine-fumes  rose. 
" Such  a power  of  extracting  the  cold  water  of  philoso- 
phy out  of  the  bottomless  pit  of  Mythus,  I never  did 
hear.  Did  you  ever,  my  Philammonidion  ? ” 

"Aha ! she  and  I were  talking  about  that  half  an 
hour  ago,”  said  Miriam. 

"What;  have  you  seen  her?”  asked  Philammon, 
with  a flutter  of  the  heart. 

" If  you  mean,  did  she  mention  you — why,  then,  yes ! ” 
" How— how  ? ” 

" Talked  of  a young  Phoebus  Apollo — without  men- 
tioning names,  certainly,  but  in  the  most  sensible,  and 
practical,  and  hopeful  way — the  wisest  speech  that  I 
have  heard  from  her  this  twelvemonth.” 

Philammon  blushed  scarlet. 

"And  that,”  thought  he,  "in  spite  of  what  passed 


HYPATIA. 


539 


this  morning’!  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  our 
host  ? ” 

“ He  has  taken  Solomon’s  advice,  and  forgotten  his 
sorrow.” 

And  so,  indeed,  he  had;  for  he  was  sleeping  sweetly, 
with  open  lacklustre  eyes,  and  a maudlin  smile  at  the 
ceiling,  while  the  negress,  with  her  head  fallen  on  her 
chest,  seemed  equally  unconscious  of  their  presence. 

“ We’ll  see,”  quoth  Miriam;  and  taking  up  the  lamp, 
she  held  the  flame  unceremoniously  to  the  arm  of  each 
of  them ; but  neither  winced  nor  stirred. 

“ Surely  your  wine  is  not  drugged  ? ” said  Philam- 
mon,  in  trepidation. 

“Why  not?  Whab  has  made  them  beasts  may 
make  us  angels.  You  seem  none  the  less  lively  for  it! 
Do  I?” 

“ But  drugged  wine  ? ” 

“ Why  not  ? The  same  who  made  wine  made  poppy- 
juice.  Both  will  make  man  happy.  Why  not  use 
both  ? ” 

“ It  is  poison ! ” 

“ It  is  the  nepenthe,  as  I told  Hypatia,  whereof  she 
was  twaddling  mysticism,  this  morning.  Drink,  child, 
drink!  I have  no  mind  to  put  you  to  sleep  to-night!  I 
want  to  make  a man  of  you,  or  rather,  to  see  whether 
you  are  one ! ” 

And  she  drained  another  cup,  and  then  went  on, 
half  talking  to  herself — 

“Ay,  it  is  poison;  and  music  is  poison;  and  woman 
is  poison,  according  to  the  new  creed.  Pagan  and 
Christian;  and  wine  will  be  poison,  and  meat  will  be 
poison,  some  day;  and  we  shall  have  a world  full  of 
mad  Nebuchadnezzars,  eating  grass  like  oxen.  It  is 
poisonous,  and  brutal,  and  devilish,  to  be  a man,  and 
not  a monk,  and  an  eunuch,  and  a dry  branch.  You 


540 


HYPATIA. 


are  all  in  the  same  lie,  Christians  and  philosophers, 
Cyril  and  Hypatia!  Don’t  interrupt  me,  hut  drink, 

young*  fool! Ay,  and  the  only  man  who  keeps  his 

manhood,  the  only  man  who  is  not  ashamed  to  he  what 
God  has  made  him,  is  your  Jew.  You  will  find  your- 
selves in  want  of  him  after  all,  some  day,  you  besotted 
Gentiles,  to  bring  you  hack  to  common  sense  and  com- 
mon manhood.  In  want  of  him  and  his  grand  old 
books,  which  you  despise  while  you  make  idols  of  them, 
about  Abraham,  and  Jacob,  and  Moses,  and  David, 
and  Solomon,  whom  you  call  saints,  you  miserable 
hypocrites,  though  they  did  what  you  are  too  dainty 
to  do,  and  had  their  wives  and  children,  and  thanked 
God  for  a beautiful  woman,  as  Adam  did  before  them, 
and  their  sons  do  after  them.  Drink,  I say ! — and  be- 
lieved that  God  had  really  made  the  world,  and  not 
the  devil,  and  had  given  them  the  lordship  over  it,  as 
you  will  find  out  to  your  cost  some  day ! 99 

Philammon  heard,  and  could  not  answer,  and  on  she 
rambled. 

“And  music,  too  ? Our  priests  were  not  afraid  of 
sackbut  and  psaltery,  dulcimer  and  trumpet,  in  the 
house  of  the  Lord;  for  they  knew  who  had  given  them 
the  cunning  to  make  them.  Our  prophets  were  not 
afraid  of  calling  for  music,  when  they  wished  to 
prophesy,  and  letting  it  soften  and  raise  their  souls, 
and  open  and  quicken  them  till  they  saw  into  the  inner 
harmony  of  things,  and  beheld  the  future  in  the  pres- 
ent; for  they  knew  who  made  the  melody  and  har- 
mony, and  made  them  the  outward  symbols  of  the 
inward  song  which  runs  through  sun  and  stars,  storm 
and  tempest,  fulfilling  His  word — in  that  these  sham 
philosophers,  the  heathen,  are  wiser  than  those  Chris- 
tian monks.  Try  it — try  it ! Come  with  me ! Leave 
these  sleepers  here,  and  come  to  my  rooms.  You  long 


HYPATIA. 


541 


to  be  as  wise  as  Solomon.  Then  get  at  wisdom  as 
Solomon  did,  and  give  your  heart  first  to  know  folly 
and  madness.  ...  You  have  read  the  Book  of  the 
Preacher  ? ” 

Poor  Philammon!  He  was  no  longer  master  of 
himself.  The  arguments — the  wine — the  terrible  spell 
of  the  old  woman’s  voice  and  eye,  and  the  strong 
overpowering  will  which  showed  out  through  them, 
dragged  him  along  in  spite  of  himself.  As  if  in  a 
dream,  he  followed  her  up  the  stairs. 

“ There,  throw  away  that  stupid,  ugly,  shapeless 
philosopher’s  cloak.  So ! you  have  on  the  white  tunic 
I gave  you  ? And  now  look  as  a human  being  should. 
And  you  have  been  to  the  baths  to-day?  Well — you 
have  the  comfort  of  feeling  now  like  other  people,  and 
having  that  alabaster  skin  as  white  as  it  was  created, 
instead  of  being  tanned  like  a brute’s  hide.  Drink,  I 
say ! Ay — what  was  that  face,  that  figure  made  for  ? 
Bring  a mirror  here,  hussy ! There,  look  in  that,  and 
judge  for  yourself?  Were  those  lips  rounded  for 
nothing  ? Why  were  those  eyes  set  in  your  head  and 
made  to  sparkle  bright  as  jewels,  sweet  as  mountain 
honey  ? Why  were  those  curls  laid  ready  for  soft 
fingers  to  twine  themselves  among  them,  and  look  all 
the  whiter  among  the  glossy  black  knots  ? Judge 
for  yourself!  ” 

Alas!  poor  Philammon! 

“And  after  all,”  thought  he,  “ is  it  not  true,  as  well 
as  pleasant  ? ” 

“ Sing  to  the  poor  bo}^,  girls ! sing  to  him ! and  teach 
him  for  the  first  time  in  his  little  ignorant  life,  the  old 
road  to  inspiration ! ” 

One  of  the  slave  girls  sat  down  on  the  divan,  and 
took  up  a double  flute;  while  the  other  rose,  and  ac- 
companying the  plaintive,  dreamy  air  with  a slow 


542 


HYPATIA. 


dance,  and  the  delicate  twinkling's  of  her  silver  armlets 
and  anklets,  and  the  sistrum  which  she  held  aloft,  she 
floated  gracefully  round  and  round  the  floor,  and 
sang — 

“ Why  were  we  born,  but  for  bliss? 

Why  are  we  ripe,  but  to  fall? 

Dream  not  that  duty  can  bar  thee  from  beauty, 

Like  water  and  sunshine,  the  heirloom  of  all. 

“ Lips  were  made  only  to  kiss; 

Hands  were  made  only  to  toy; 

Eyes  were  made  only  to  lure  on  the  lonely, 

The  longing,  the  loving,  and  drown  them  in  joy!  ” 

Alas,  for  poor  Philammon ! And  yet  no!  The  very 
poison  brought  with  it  its  own  antidote;  and,  shaking 
off  by  one  strong’  effort  of  will  the  spell  of  the  music 
and  the  wine  he  sprang  to  his  feet.  . . . 

“ Never!  If  love  means  no  more  than  that — if  it  is 
to  be  a mere  delicate  self-indulgence,  worse  than  the 
brute’s,  because  it  requires  the  prostration  of  nobler 
faculties,  and  a selfishness  the  more  huge  in  propor- 
tion to  the  greatness  of  the  soul  which  is  crushed 
inward  by  it — then  I will  have  none  of  it!  I have  had 
my  dream — yes  ! but  it  was  of  one  who  should  be  at 
once  my  teacher  and  my  pupil,  my  debtor  and  my 
queen — who  should  lean  on  me,  and  yet  support  me — 
supply  my  defects,  although  with  lesser  light,  as  the 
old  moon  fills  up  the  circle  of  the  new — labor  with  me 
side  by  side  in  some  great  work — rising  with  me  forever 
as  I rose : and  this  is  the  base  substitute ! Never ! " 

Whether  or  not  this  was  unconsciously  forced  into 
words  by  the  vehemence  of  his  passion,  or  whether 
the  old  Jewess  heard,  or  pretended  to  hear,  a footstep 
coming  up  the  stairs,  she  at  all  events  sprang  instantly 
to  her  feet. 


HYPATIA. 


543 


“Hist!  Silence,  girls ! I hear  a visitor.  What  mad 
maiden  has  come  to  beg  a love-charm  of  the  poor  old 
witch  at  this  time  of  night  ? Or  have  the  Christian 
blood-hounds  tracked  the  old  lioness  of  Judah  to  her 
den  at  last  ? We’ll  see ! ” 

And  she  drew  a dagger  from  her  girdle,  and  stepped 
boldly  to  the  door. 

As  she  went  out  she  turned — 

“So!  my  brave  young  Apollo!  You  do  not  admire 
simple  woman?  You  must  have  something  more 
learned,  and  intellectual,  and  spiritual,  and  so  forth. 
I wonder  whether  Eve,  when  she  came  to  Adam  in  the 
garden,  brought  with  her  a certificate  of  proficiency 
in  the  seven  sciences  ? Well,  well — like  must  after  like. 
Perhaps  we  shall  be  able  to  suit  you,  after  all.  Vanish, 
daughters  of  Midian ! ” 

The  girls  vanished  accordingly,  whispering  and 
laughing;  and  Philammon  found  himself  alone.  Al- 
though he  was  somewhat  soothed  by  the  old  woman’s 
last  speech,  yet  a sense  of  terror,  of  danger,  of  coming 
temptation,  kept  him  standing  sternly  on  his  feet,  look- 
ing warily  round  the  chamber,  lest  a fresh  siren  should 
emerge  from  behind  some  curtain  or  heap  of  pillows. 

On  one  side  of  the  room  he  perceived  a doorway, 
filled  by  a curtain  of  gauze,  from  behind  which  came 
the  sound  of  whispering  voices.  His  fear,  growing 
with  the  general  excitement  of  his  mind,  rose  into 
anger  as  he  began  to  suspect  some  snare;  and  he 
faced  round  toward  the  curtain  and  stood  like  a wild 
beast  at  bay,  ready,  with  uplifted  arm,  for  all  evil 
spirits,  male  or  female. 

“And  he  will  show  himself?  How  shall  I accost 
him  ? ” whispered  a well-known  voice — could  it  be  Hy- 
patia’s ? And  then  the  guttural  Hebrew  accent  of  the 
old  woman  answered — 


544 


1IYPATIA. 


“As  you  spoke  of  him  this  morning ” 

“ Oh ! I will  tell  him  all,  and  he  must — he  must  have 

mercy ! But  he ! so  awful,  so  glorious ! ” 

What  the  answer  was  he  could  not  hear;  but  the 
next  moment  a sweet  heavy  scent,  as  of  narcotic 
gums,  filled  the  room — mutterings  of  incantations— 
and  then  a blaze  of  light,  in  which  the  curtain  van- 
ished, and  disclosed  to  his  astonished  eyes,  enveloped 
in  a glory  of  luminous  smoke,  the  hag  standing  by  a 
tripod,  and,  kneeling  by  her,  Hypatia  herself,  robed 
in  pure  white,  glittering  with  diamonds  and  gold,  her 
lips  parted,  her  head  thrown  back,  her  arms  stretched 
out  in  an  agony  of  expectation. 

In  an  instant,  before  he  had  time  to  stir,  she  had 
sprung  through  the  blaze,  and  was  kneeling  at  his 
feet. 

“Phoebus!  beautiful,  glorious,  ever  young!  Hear 
me!  only  a moment!  only  this  once!” 

Her  drapery  had  caught  fire  from  the  tripod,  but 
she  did  not  heed  it.  Philammon  instinctive^  clasped 
her  in  his  arms,  and  crushed  it  out,  as  she  cried — 
“Have  mercy  on  me!  Tell  me  the  secret!  I will 
obey  thee ! I have  no  self — I am  thy  slave ! Kill  me 
if  thou  wilt : but  speak ! ” 

The  blaze  sank  into  a soft,  warm,  mellow  gleam, 
and  beyond  it  what  appeared  ? 

The  old  negro  woman,  with  one  finger  upon  her  lips, 
as  with  an  imploring,  all  but  despairing,  look,  she  held 
out  to  him  her  little  crucifix. 

He  saw  it.  What  thoughts  flashed  through  him, 
like  the  lightning  bolt,  at  that  blessed  sign  of  infinite 
self-sacrifice,  I say  not;  let  those  who  know  it  judge 
for  themselves.  But  in  another  instant  he  had  spurned 
from  him  the  poor  deluded  maiden,  whose  idolatrous 
ecstasies  he  saw  instantly  were  not  meant  for  himself, 


In  an  instant  she  had  sprung  through  the  blaze  and  was  kneeling  at  his  feet. 


35 


HYPATIA. 


547 


and  rushed  desperately  across  the  room,  looking-  for 
an  outlet. 

He  found  a door  in  the  darkness — a room — a window 
— and  in  another  moment  he  had  leapt  twenty  feet 
into  the  street,  rolled  over,  bruised  and  bleeding,  rose 
again  like  an  Antaeus,  with  new  strength,  and  darted 
off  toward  the  archbishop's  house. 

And  poor  Hypatia  lay  half  senseless  on  the  floor, 
with  the  Jewess  watching  her  bitter  tears — not  merely 
of  disappointment,  but  of  utter  shame.  For  as  Philam- 
mon  fled  she  had  recognized  those  well-known  features; 
and  the  veil  was  lifted  from  her  eyes,  and  the  hope 
and  the  self-respect  of  Theon’s  daughter  were  gone 
forever. 

Her  righteous  wrath  was  too  deep  for  upbraidings. 
Slowly  she  rose;  returned  into  the  inner  room; 
wrapped  her  cloak  deliberately  around  her;  and  went 
silently  away,  with  one  look  at  the  Jewess  of  solemn 
scorn  and  defiance. 

“Ah ! I can  afford  a few  sulky  looks  to-night ! ” said 
the  old  woman  to  herself,  with  a smile,  as  she  picked 
up  from  the  floor  the  prize  for  which  she  had  been 
plotting  so  long — Raphael’s  half  of  the  black  agate. 

“I  wonder  whether  she  will  miss  it!  Perhaps  she 
will  have  no  fancy  for  its  company  any  longer,  now 
that  she  has  discovered  what  over-palpable  archangels 
appear  when  she  rubs  it.  But  if  she  does  try  to  re- 
cover it  . . . why  — let  her  try  her  strength  with 
mine — or,  rather,  with  a Christian  mob.” 

And  then,  drawing  from  her  bosom  the  other  half 
of  the  talisman,  she  fitted  the  two  pieces  together 
again  and  again,  fingering  them  over,  and  poring  upon 
them  with  tear- brimming  eyes,  till  she  had  satisfied 
herself  that  the  fracture  still  fitted  exactly;  while  she 
murmured  to  herself  from  time  to  time— “Oh,  that  he 


548 


HYPATIA. 


were  here!  Oh,  that  he  would  return  now — now!  It 
may  be  too  late  to-morrow ! Stay — I will  go  and  con- 
sult the  terapli;  it  may  know  where  he  is.” 

And  she  departed  to  her  incantations;  while  Hy- 
patia threw  herself  upon  her  bed  at  home,  and  filled 
the  chamber  with  a long,  low  wailing,  as  of  a child  in 
pain,  till  the  dreary  dawn  broke  on  her  shame  and  her 
despair.  And  then  she  rose,  and  rousing*  herself  for 
one  great  effort,  calmly  prepared  an  oration,  in  which 
she  intended  to  bid  farewell  forever  to  Alexandria 
and  to  the  schools. 

Pliilammon  meanwhile  was  striding  desperately  up 
the  main  street  which  led  toward  the  Serapeium.  But 
he  was  not  destined  to  arrive  there  as  soon  as  he  hoped 
to  do.  For  ere  he  had  gone  half  a mile,  behold  a crowd 
advancing  toward  him,  blocking  up  the  whole  street. 

The  mass  seemed  endless.  Thousands  of  torches 
flared  above  their  heads,  and  from  the  heart  of  the 
procession  rose  a solemn  chant,  in  which  Pliilammon 
soon  recognized  the  well-known  Catholic  hymn.  He 
was  half  minded  to  turn  up  some  by -street,  and  escape 
meeting  them.  But  on  attempting  to  do  so,  he  found 
every  avenue  which  he  tried  similarly  blocked  up  by  a 
tributary  stream  of  people;  and  almost  ere  he  was 
aware,  was  entangled  in  the  vanguard  of  the  great 
column. 

“ Let  me  pass ! ” cried  he,  in  a voice  of  entreaty. 

“ Pass,  thou  heathen  ? ” 

In  vain  he  protested  his  Christianity. 

“ Origenist,  Donatist,  heretic ! Whither  should  a good 
Catholic  be  going  to-night,  save  to  the  Csesareum  ? ” 
"My  friends,  my  friends,  I have  no  business  at  the 
Csesareum ! ” cried  he,  in  utter  despair.  " I am  on  my 
way  to  seek  a private  interview  with  the  patriarch, 
on  matters  of  importance.” 


HYPATIA. 


549 


“O  liar!  who  pretends  to  be  known  to  the  patri- 
arch, and  yet  is  ignorant  that  this  night  he  visits  at 
the  Cassareum  the  most  sacred  corpse  of  the  martyr 
Ammonius.” 

“ What ! Is  Cyril  with  you  ? ” 

“ He  and  all  his  clergy/’ 

“ Better  so;  better  in  public/’  said  Philammon  to 
himself  and,  turning,  he  joined  the  crowd. 

Onward,  with  chant  and  dirge,  they  swept  out 
through  the  Sun-gate,  upon  the  harbor  esplanade,  and 
wheeled  to  the  right  along  the  quay,  while  the  torch- 
light bathed  in  a red  glare  the  great  front  of  the 
Caesareum,  and  the  tall  obelisks  before  in,  and  the 
masts  of  the  thousand  ships  which  lay  in  rlie  harbor 
on  their  left;  and  last  but  not  least,  before  the  huge 
dim  mass  of  the  palace  which  bounded  the  esplanade 
in  front,  a long  line  of  glittering  helmets  and  cuirasses, 
behind  a barrier  of  cables  which  stretched  from  the 
shore  to  the  corner  of  the  Museum. 

There  was  a sudden  halt;  a low  ominous  growl;  and 
then  the  mob,  pressed  onward  from  behind,  surged  up 
almost  to  the  barrier.  The  soldiers  dropped  the  points 
of  their  lances,  and  stood  firm . Again  the  mob  recoiled ; 
again  surged  forward.  Fierce  cries  arose;  some  of  the 
boldest  stooped  to  pick  up  stones:  but,  luckily,  the 
pavement  was  too  firm  for  them.  . . . Another  mo- 
ment, and  the  whole  soldiery  of  Alexandria  would 
have  been  fighting  for  life  and  death  against  fifty 
thousand  Christians.  . . . 

But  Cyril  had  not  forgotten  his  generalship.  Reck- 
less as  that  night’s  events  proved  him  to  be  about 
arousing  the  passions  of  his  subjects,  he  was  yet  far 
too  wary  to  risk  the  odium  and  the  danger  of  a night 
attack,  which  even  if  successful,  would  have  cost  the 
lives  of  hundreds.  He  knew  well  enough  the  numbers 


550 


HYPATIA. 


and  the  courage  of  the  enemy,  and  the  certainty  that, 
in  case  of  a collision,  no  quarter  would  be  given  or 
accepted  on  either  side.  . . . Besides  if  a battle  must 
take  place— and  that,  of  course,  must  happen  sooner 
or  later — it  must  not  happen  in  his  presence  and  under 
his  sanction.  He  was  in  the  right  now,  and  Orestes 
in  the  wrong;  and  in  the  right  he  would  keep — at 
least  till  his  express  to  Byzantium  should  have  re- 
turned, and  Orestes  was  either  proscribed  or  super- 
seded. So  looking  forward  to  some  such  chance  as 
this,  the  wary  prelate  had  schooled  his  aides-de-camp, 
the  deacons  of  the  city,  and  went  on  his  way  up  the 
steps  of  the  Ceesareum,  knowing  that  they  could  be 
trusted  to  keep  the  peace  outside. 

And  they  did  their  work  well.  Before  a blow  had 
been  struck,  or  even  an  insult  passed  on  either  side, 
they  had  burst  through  the  front  rank  of  the  mob, 
and  by  stout  threats  of  excommunication,  enjoined  not 
onty  peace,  but  absolute  silence  until  the  sacred  cere- 
rnoir^  which  was  about  to  take  place  should  be  com- 
pleted ; and  enforced  their  commands  by  marching  up 
and  down  like  sentries  between  the  hostile  ranks  for 
the  next  weary  two  hours,  till  the  very  soldiers  broke 
out  into  expressions  of  admiration,  and  the  tribune  of 
the  cohort,  who  had  no  great  objection,  but  also  no 
great  wish  to  fight,  paid  them  a high-flown  compli- 
ment on  their  laudable  endeavors  to  maintain  public 
order,  and  received  the  somewhat  ambiguous  reply, 
that  the  “weapons  of  their  warfare  were  not  carnal, 
that  they  wrestled  not  against  flesh  and  blood,  but 
against  principalities  and  powers”  ...  an  answer 
which  the  tribune,  being  now  somewhat  sleepy,  thought 
it  best  to  leave  unexplained. 

In  the  mean  while,  there  had  passed  up  the  steps  of 
the  temple  a gorgeous  line  of  priests,  among  whom 


HYPATIA. 


551 


glittered,  more  gorgeous  than  all,  the  stately  figure 
of  the  pontiff.  They  were  followed  close  by  thousands 
of  monks,  not  only  from  Alexandria  and  Nitria,  but 
from  all  the  adjoining  towns  and  monasteries.  And 
as  Philammon,  unable  for  some  half-hour  more  to 
force  his  way  into  the  church,  watched  their  endless 
stream,  he  could  well  believe  the  boast  which  he  had 
so  often  heard  in  Alexandria,  that  one-half  of  the 
population  of  Egypt  was  at  that  moment  in  “ religious 
orders.” 

After  the  monks,  the  laity  began  to  enter;  but  even 
then  so  vast  was  the  crowd,  and  so  dense  the  crush 
upon  the  steps,  that  before  he  could  force  his  way  into 
the  church,  Cyril’s  sermon  had  begun. 

* * * * * * 

“What  went  ye  out  for  to  see?  A man  clothed  in 
soft  raiment  ? Nay,  such  arc  in  kings’  palaces,  and  in 
the  palaces  of  prefects  who  would  needs  be  emperors, 
and  cast  away  the  Lord’s  bonds  from  them,  of  whom 
it  is  written,  that  He  that  sitteth  in  the  heavens 
laughetli  them  to  scorn,  and  taketh  the  wicked  in  their 
own  snare,  and  maketh  the  devices  of  princes  of  none 
effect.  Ay,  in  kings’  palaces,  and  in  theatres  too, 
where  the  rich  of  this  world,  poor  in  faith,  deny  their 
covenant,  and  defile  their  baptismal  robes  that  they 
may  do  honor  to  the  devourers  of  the  earth.  Woe  to 
them  who  think  that  they  may  partake  of  the  cup  of 
the  Lord  and  the  cup  of  devils.  Woe  to  them  who 
will  praise  with  the  same  mouth  Aphrodite  the  fiend, 
and  her  of  whom  it  is  written  that  He  was  born  of  a 
pure  Virgin.  Let  such  be  excommunicated  from  the 
cup  of  the  Lord,  and  from  the  congregation  of  the 
Lord,  till  they  have  purged  away  their  sins  by  penance 
and  by  alms-giving.  But  for  you,  ye  poor  of  this 
world,  rich  in  faith — you  whom  the  rich  despise,  hale 


552 


HYPATIA. 


before  the  judgment  seats,  and  blaspheme  that  holy 
name  whereby  ye  are  called — what  went  ye  out  into 
the  wilderness  to  see  ? A prophet  ? Ay,  and  more 
than  a prophet — a martyr?  More  than  a prophet, 
more  than  a king',  more  than  a prefect;  whose  theatre 
was  the  sands  of  the  desert,  whose  throne  was  the 
cross,  whose  crown  was  bestowed,  not  by  heathen 
philosophers  and  daughters  of  Satan  deceiving  men 
with  the  works  of  their  fathers,  but  by  angels  and 
archangels;  a crown  of  glory,  the  victor’s  laurel,  which 
grows  forever  in  the  paradise  of  the  highest  heaven. 
Call  him  no  more  Ammonius,  call  him  Thaumasius, 
wonderful!  Wonderful  in  his  poverty,  wonderful  in 
his  zeal,  wonderful  in  his  faith,  wonderful  in  his  forti- 
tude, wonderful  in  his  death,  most  wonderful  in  the 
manner  of  that  death.  Oh,  thrice  blessed,  who  has 
merited  the  honor  of  the  cross  itself!  What  can  fol- 
low, but  that  one  so  honored  in  the  flesh,  should  also 
be  honored  in  the  life  which  he  now  lives,  and  that 
from  the  virtue  of  these  thrice  holy  limbs  the  leper 
should  be  cleansed,  the  dumb  should  speak,  the  very 
dead  be  raised?  Yes;  it  were  impiety  to  doubt  it. 
Consecrated  by  the  cross,  this  flesh  shall  not  only  rest 
in  hope  but  work  in  power.  Approach,  and  be  healed ! 
Approach  and  see  the  glory  of  the  saints,  the  glory  of 
the  poor.  Approach,  and  learn  that  that  which  man 
despises,  God  hath  highly  esteemed;  that  that  which 
man  rejects,  God  accepts;  that  that  which  man  pun- 
ishes, God  rewards.  Approach,  and  see  how  God  hath 
chosen  the  foolish  things  of  this  world  to  confound  the 
wise,  and  the  weak  things  of  this  world  to  confound 
the  strong.  Man  abhors  the  cross:  the  Son  of  God 
condescended  to  endure  it!  Man  tramples  on  the 
poor : the  Son  of  God  hath  not  where  to  lay  his  head. 
Man  passes  by  the  sick  as  useless:  the  Son  of  God 


HYPATIA. 


553 


choose  them  to  he  partakers  of  His  sufferings,  that 
the  glory  of  God  may  be  made  manifest  in  them. 
Man  curses  the  publican,  while  he  employs  him  to  fill 
his  coffers  with  the  plunder  of  the  poor:  the  Son  of 
God  calls  him  from  the  receipt  of  customs  to  be  an 
apostle,  higher  than  the  kings  of  the  earth.  Man  casts 
away  the  harlot  like  a faded  flower,  when  he  has  tempted 
her  to  become  the  slave  of  sin  for  a season : and  the 
Son  of  God  calls  her,  the  defiled,  the  despised,  the  for- 
saken, to  Himself,  accepts  her  tears,  blesses  her  offer- 
ing, and  declares  that  her  sins  are  forgiven,  for  she 
hath  loved  much : while  to  whom  little  is  forgiven  the 
same  loveth  little.”  . . . 

Philammon  heard  no  more.  With  the  passionate 
and  impulsive  nature  of  a Greek  fanatic,  he  burst  for- 
ward through  the  crowd,  toward  the  steps  which  led 
to  the  choir,  and  above  which,  in  front  of  the  altar, 
stood  the  corpse  of  Ammonius,  inclosed  in  a coffin  of 
glass,  beneath  a gorgeous  canopy ; and,  never  stopping 
till  he  found  himself  in  front  of  Cyril’s  pulpit,  he  threw 
himself  upon  his  face  upon  the  pavement,  spread  out 
his  arms  in  the  form  of  a cross,  and  lay  silent  and 
motionless  before  the  feet  of  the  multitude. 

There  was  a sudden  whisper  and  rustle  in  the  congre- 
gation : but  Cyril,  after  a moment’s  pause,  went  on — 

“ Man,  in  his  pride  and  self-sufficiency,  despises  hu- 
miliation, and  penance,  and  the  broken  and  the  contrite 
heart  and  tells  thee  that  only  as  long  as  thou  doest  well 
unto  thyself  will  he  speak  well  of  thee:  the  Son  of 
God  says  that  he  that  humbleth  himself,  even  as  this 
our  penitent  brother,  he  it  is  who  shall  be  exalted.  He 
it  is  of  whom  it  is  written  that  his  father  saw  him 
afar  off,  and  ran  to  meet  him,  and  bade  put  the  best 
robe  on  him,  and  a ring  on  his  hand,  and  shoes  on  his 
feet,  and  make  merry  and  be  glad  with  the  choir  of 


554 


HYPATIA. 


angels  who  rejoice  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth. 
Arise,  my  son,  whosoever  thou  art;  and  go  in  peace 
for  this  night,  remembering  that  he  who  said  ‘My 
belly  cleave th  unto  the  pavement/  hath  also  said, 
‘ Rejoice  not  against  me,  Satan,  mine  enemy,  for  when 
I fall  I shall  arise ! 9 99 

A thunderclap  of  applause,  surely  as  pardonable  as 
any  an  Alexandrian  church  ever  heard,  followed  this 
dexterous,  and  yet  most  righteous,  turn  of  the  patri- 
arch’s oratory;  but  Philammon  raised  himself  slowly 
and  fearfully  to  his  knees,  and  blushing  scarlet,  en- 
dured the  gaze  of  ten  thousand  eyes. 

Suddenly,  from  beside  the  pulpit,  an  old  man  sprang 
forward,  and  clasped  him  round  the  neck.  It  was 
Arseni  us. 

“ My  son ! my  son ! 99  sobbed  he,  almost  aloud. 

“ Slave,  as  Avell  as  son,  if  you  will ! 99  whispered  Phi- 
lammon, “ one  boon  from  the  patriarch;  and  then  home 
to  the  Laura  forever!”  . . . 

“ Oh,  twice-blessed  night,”  rolled  on  above  the  deep, 
rich  voice  of  Cyril,  “ which  beholds  at  once  the  corona- 
tion of  a martyr,  and  the  conversion  of  a sinner;  which 
increases  at  the  same  time  the  ranks  of  the  church 
triumphant,  and  of  the  church  militant;  and  pierces 
celestial  essences  with  a twofold  rapture  of  thanks- 
giving, as  they  welcome  on  high  a victorious,  and  on 
earth  a repentant,  brother!” 

And  at  a sign  from  Cyril,  Peter  the  Reader  stepped 
forward,  and  led  away,  gently  enough,  the  two  weep- 
ers, who  were  welcomed  as  they  passed  by  the  bless- 
ings, and  prayers,  and  tears  even  of  those  fierce  fana- 
tics of  Nitria.  Nay,  Peter  himself,  as  he  turned  to 
leave  them  together  in  the  sacristy,  held  out  his  hand 
to  Philammon. 

“ I ask  your  forgiveness,”  said  the  poor  boy,  who 


HYPATIA. 


555 


plunged  eagerly  and  with  a sort  of  delight  into  any 
and  every  self-abasement. 

“And  I accord  it,"  quoth  Peter;  and  returned  to  the 
church,  looking,  and  probably  feeling,  in  a f ar  more 
pleasant  mood  than  usual. 


556 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  PRODIGAL'S  RETURN. 

About  ten  o’clock  the  next  morning-,  as  Hypatia, 
w orn  out  with  sleepless  sorrow,  was  trying-  to  arrange 
her  thoughts  for  the  farewell  lecture,  her  favorite  maid 
announced  that  a messenger  from  Synesius  waited 
below.  A letter  from  Synesius  ? A gleam  of  hope 
flashed  across  her  mind.  From  him,  surely,  might 
come  something  of  comfort,  of  advice.  Ah ! if  he  only 
knew  how  sorely  she  was  bestead! 

“ Let  him  send  up  his  letter.” 

“ He  refuses  to  deliver  it  to  any  one  but  yourself. 
And  I think  ” — added  the  damsel,  who  had,  to  tell  the 
truth,  at  that  moment  in  her  purse  a substantial  rea- 
son for  so  thinking — “ I think  it  might  be  worth  your 
ladyship’s  while  to  see  him.” 

Hypatia  shook  her  head  impatiently. 

“ He  seems  to  know  you  well,  madam,  though  he 
refuses  to  tell  his  name:  but  he  bade  me  put  you  in 
mind  of  a black  agate — I cannot  tell  what  he  meant 
— of  a black  agate,  and  a spirit  which  was  to  appear 
when  you  rubbed  it.” 

Hypatia  turned  pale  as  death.  Was  it  Philammon 
again?  She  felt  for  the  talisman — it  was  gone!  She 
must  have  lost  it  last  night  in  Miriam’s  chamber. 
Nowt  she  saw  the  true  purpose  of  the  old  hag’s  plot — 
. . . deceived,  tricked,  doubly  tricked ! And  what  new 
plot  was  this  ? 

“ Tell  him  to  leave  the  letter,  and  begone.  . . . My 


HYPATIA. 


557 


father?  What?  Who  is  this?  Whom  are  you  bring- 
ing- to  me  at  such  a moment  ? ” 

And  as  she  spoke,  Theon  ushered  into  the  chamber 
no  other  than  Raphael  Aben-Ezra,  and  then  retired. 

He  advanced  slowly  toward  her,  and  falling  on  one 
knee,  placed  in  her  hand  Synesius’s  letter. 

Hypatia  trembled  from  head  to  foot  at  the  unex- 
pected apparition.  ...  Well;  at  least  he  could  know 
nothing  of  last  night  and  its  disgrace.  But  not  daring 
to  look  him  in  the  face,  she  took  the  letter  and  opened 
it.  . . . If  she  had  hoped  for  comfort  from  it,  her  hope 
was  not  realized. 

“Synesius  to  the  Philosopher: 

“Even  if  fortune  cannot  take  from  me  all  things, 
yet,  what  she  can  take  she  will.  And  yet  of  two 
things,  at  least,  she  shall  not  rob  me — to  prefer  that 
which  is  best,  and  to  succor  the  oppressed.  Heaven 
forbid  that  she  should  overpower  my  judgment,  as 
well  as  the  rest  of  me!  Therefore  I do  hate  injustice; 
for  that  I can  do ; and  my  will  is  to  stop  it ; but  the 
power  to  do  so  is  among  the  things  of  which  she  has 
bereaved  me — before,  too,  she  bereaved  me  of  my 
children.  . . . 

‘ Once,  in  old  times,  Milesian  men  were  strong.’ 

And  there  was  a time  when  I,  too,  was  a comfort  to 
my  friends,  and  when  you  used  to  call  me  a blessing 
to  every  one  except  myself,  as  I squandered  for  the 
benefit  of  others  the  favor  with  which  the  great  re- 
garded me.  . . . My  hands  they  were — then.  ...  But 
now  I am  left  desolate  of  all:  unless  you  have  any 
power.  For  you  and  virtue  I count  among  those  good 
things,  of  which  none  can  deprive  me.  But  you  always 
have  power,  and  will  have  it,  surely,  now — using  it  as 
nobly  as  you  do. 


558 


HYPATIA. 


“As  for  Nicasus  and  Pliilolaus,  two  noble  youths, 
and  kinsmen  of  my  own,  let  it  be  the  business  of  all 
private  men  and  magistrates,  to  see  that  they  return 
possessors  of  their  just  rights.”  * 

“Of  all  who  honor  me!”  said  she,  with  bitter  sigh; 
and  then  looked  up  quickly  at  Raphael,  as  if  fearful  of 
having  betrayed  herself.  She  turned  deadly  pale.  In 
his  eyes  was  a look  of  solemn  pity,  which  told  her  that 
he  knew — not  all  ? — surely  not  all  ? 

“ Have  you  seen  the — Miriam  ? ” gasped  she,  rushing 
desperately  at  that  which  she  most  dreaded. 

“Rot  yet.  I arrived  one  hour  ago;  and  Hypatia’s 
welfare  is  still  more  important  to  me  than  my  own.” 

“ My  welfare  ? It  is  gone ! ” 

“ So  much  the  better.  I never  found  mine  till  1 
lost  it.” 

“ What  do  you  mean  ?” 

Raphael  lingered,  yet  without  withdrawing  his  gaze, 
as  if  he  had  something  of  importance  to  say,  which  he 
longed  and  yet  feared  to  utter.  At  last — 

“At  least,  you  will  confess  that  I am  better  dressed 
than  when  we  met  last.  I have  returned,  you  see,  like 
a certain  demoniac  of  Gadara,  about  whom  we  used  to 
argue,  clothed — and  perhaps  also  in  my  right  mind. 

. . . God  knows!” 

“Raphael!  are  you  come  here  to  mock  me  ? You 
know — you  cannot  have  been  here  an  hour  without 
knowing — that  but  yesterday  I dreamed  of  being” — 
and  she  drooped  her  eyes — “an  empress;  that  to-day 
I am  ruined;  to-morrow  perhaps  proscribed.  Have 
you  no  speech  for  me  but  your  old  sarcasms  and 
ambiguities  ? ” 

Raphael  stood  silent  and  motionless. 


* An  authentic  letter  of  Synesius  to  Hypatia. 


HYPATIA. 


559 


“ Why  do  you  not  speak  ? What  is  the  meaning-  of 
this  sad,  earnest  look,  so  different  from  your  former 
self  ? ...  You  have  something  strange  to  tell  me!” 

“ I have,”  said  he,  speaking  very  slowly.  “ What — 
what  would  Hypatia  answer  if,  after  all,  Aben-Ezra 
said,  like  the  dying  Julian,  ‘The  Galilean  has  con- 
quered ? 3 ” 

“Julian  never  said  it!  It  is  a monkish  calumny.” 

“ But  I say  it.” 

“ Impossible ! ” 

“ I say  it ! ” 

“As  your  dying  speech  ? The  true  Raphael  Aben- 
Ezra,  then,  lives  no  more ! ” 

“ But  he  may  be  born  again.” 

“And  die  to  philosophy,  that  he  may  be  born  again 
into  barbaric  superstition  ? Oh,  worthy  metempsy- 
chosis ! Farewell,  sir ! ” And  she  rose  to  go. 

“ Hear  me ! hear  me  patiently  this  once,  noble,  be- 
loved Hypatia ! One  more  sneer  of  yours,  and  I may 
become  again  the  same  case-hardened  fiend  which  you 
knew  me  of  old — to  all,  at  least,  but  you.  Oh,  do  not 
think  me  ungrateful,  forgetful!  What  do  I owe  to 
you,  whose  pure  and  lofty  words  alone  kept  smoulder- 
ing in  me  the  dim  remembrance  that  there  was  a 
Right,  a Truth,  an  unseen  world  of  spirits,  after  whose 
pattern  man  should  aspire  to  live?” 

She  paused,  and  listened  in  wonder.  What  faith 
had  she  of  her  own  ? She  would  at  least  hear  what  he 
had  found.  . . . 

“ Hypatia,  I am  older  than  you — wiser  than  you,  if 
wisdom  be  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowledge.  You 
know  but  one  side  of  the  medal,  Hypatia,  and  the 
fairer;  I have  seen  its  reverse  as  well  as  its  obverse. 
Through  every  form  of  human  thought,  of  human 
action,  of  human  sin  and  folly,  have  I been  wandering 


560 


HYPATIA. 


for  years,  and  found  no  rest — as  little  in  wisdom  as  in 
folly,  in  spiritual  dreams  as  in  sensual  brutality.  I 
could  not  rest  in  your  Platonism — I will  tell  you  why 
hereafter.  I went  on  to  Stoicism,  Epicurism,  Cynicism, 
Skepticism,  and  in  that  lowest  deep  I found  a lower 
depth,  when  I became  skeptical  of  skepticism  itself.” 

“There  is  a lower  deep  still,”  thought  Hypatia  to 
herself,  as  she  recollected  last  night’s  magic;  but  she 
did  not  speak. 

“ Then  in  utter  abasement  I confessed  myself  lower 
than  the  brutes,  who  had  a law,  and  obeyed  it,  while 
I was  my  own  lawless  God,  devil,  harpy,  whirlwind. 
. . . I needed  even  my  own  dog  to  awaken  in  me  the 
brute  consciousness  of  my  own  existence,  or  of  any- 
thing without  myself.  I took  her,  the  dog,  for  my 
teacher,  and  obeyed  her,  for  she  was  wiser  than  I. 
And  she  led  me  back — the  poor  dumb  beast — like  a 
God-sent  and  God-obeying  angel,  to  human  nature,  to 
mercy,  to  self-sacrifice,  to  belief,  to  worship — to  pure 
and  wedded  love.” 

Hypatia  started.  . . . And  in  the  struggle  to  hide 
her  own  bewilderment  answered  almost  without  know- 
ing it — 

“Wedded  love?  . . . Wedded  love?  Is  that,  then, 
the  paltry  bait  by  which  Raphael  Aben-Ezra  has  been 
tempted  to  desert  philosophy  ? ” 

“ Thank  Heaven ! ” said  Raphael  to  himself.  “ She 
does  not  care  for  me,  then!  If  she  had,  pride  would 
have  kept  her  from  that  sneer.”  “ Y es,  my  dear  lady,” 
answered  he,  aloud,  “to  desert  philosophy,  to  search 
after  wisdom;  because  wisdom  itself  had  sought  for 
me,  and  found  me.  But,  indeed,  I had  hoped  that  you 
would  have  approved  of  my  following  your  example 
for  once  in  my  life,  and  resolving,  like  you,  to  enter 
into  the  estate  of  wedlock.” 


HYPATIA. 


561 


“ Do  not  sneer  at  me ! 99  cried  she,  in  her  turn,  look- 
ing* up  at  him  with  shame  and  horror,  which  made 
him  repent  of  uttering*  the  words.  “If  you  do  not 
know — you  will  soon,  too  soon!  Never  mention  that 
hateful  dream  to  me,  if  you  wish  to  have  speech  of  me 
more ! 99 

A pang*  of  remorse  shot  throug*h  Raphael's  heart. 
Who  but  he  himself  had  plotted  that  evil  marriag*e  ? 
But  she  gave  him  no  opportunity  of  answering  her, 
and  went  on  hurriedly — 

“ Speak  to  me  rather  about  yourself.  What  is  this 
strange  and  sudden  betrothal  ? What  has  it  to  do 
with  Christianity  ? I had  thought  that  it  was  rather 
by  the  glories  of  celibacy— gross  and  superstitious  as 
their  notions  of  it  are,  that  the  Galilaeans  tempted  their 
converts." 

“ So  had  I,  my  dearest  lady,"  answered  he,  as,  glad 
to  turn  the  subject  for  a moment,  and  perhaps  a little 
nettled  by  her  contemptuous  tone,  he  resumed  some- 
thing of  his  old  arch  and  careless  manner.  “But — 
there  is  no  accounting  for  man's  agreeable  inconsist- 
encies— one  morning  I found  myself,  to  my  astonish- 
ment, seized  by  two  bishops,  and  betrothed,  whether 
I chose  or  not,  to  a young  lady  who  but  a few  days 
before  had  been  destined  for  a nunnery." 

“ Two  bishops  ? " 

“I  speak  simple  truth.  The  one  was  Synesius,  of 
course — that  most  incoherent  and  most  benevolent  of 
busybodies  chose  to  betray  me  behind  my  back;  but  I 
will  not  trouble  you  with  that  part  of  my  story.  The 
real  wonder  is,  that  the  other  episcopal  match-maker 
was — Augustine  of  Hippo,  himself ! " 

“Anything  to  bribe  a convert,"  said  Hypatia,  con- 
temptuously. 

“ I assure  you,  no.  He  informed  me,  and  her  also, 
36 


562 


HYPATIA. 


^openly  and  uncivilly  enough,  that  he  thought  us  very 
much  to  be  pitied  for  so  great  a fall.  . . . But  as  we 
neither  of  us  seemed  to  have  any  call  for  the  higher 
life  of  celibacy,  he  could  not  press  it  on  us.  ...  We 
• should  have  trouble  in  the  flesh.  But  if  we  married 
we  had  not  sinned.  To  which  I answered  that  my 
humility  was  quite  content  to  sit  in  the  very  lowest 
ranks,  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob.  . . . He  re- 
plied by  an  encomium  on  virginity,  in  which  I seemed 
to  hear  again  the  voice  of  Hypatia  herself.” 

“And  sneered  at  it  inwardly,  as  you  used  to  sneer 
at  me.” 

“ Really,  I was  in  no  sneering  mood  at  that  moment  ; 
and  whatsoever  I may  have  felt  inclined  to  reply,  he 
was  kind  enough  to  say  for  me  and  himself  the  next 
minute.” 

“ What  do  you  mean  ? ” 

He  went  on,  to  my  utter  astonishment,  by  such  a 
eulogium  on  wedlock  as  I never  heard  from  Jew  to 
heathen,  and  ended  by  advice  to  young  married  folks 
so  thoroughly  excellent  and  to  the  point,  that  I could 
not  help  telling  him,  when  he  stopped,  what  a pity  I 
thought  it  that  he  had  not  himself  married,  and  made 
some  good  woman  happy  by  putting  his  own  recipes 
into  practice  . . . and  at  that,  Hypatia,  I saw  an  ex- 
pression on  his  face  which  made  me  wish  for  the  mo- 
ment that  I had  bitten  out  this  impudent  tongue  of 
mine,  before  I so  rashly  touched  some  deep  old  wound. 
. . . That  man  has  wept  bitter  tears  ere  now,  be  sure 
of  it.  . . . But  he  turned  the  conversation  instantly, 
like  a well-bred  gentleman  as  he  is,  by  saying,  with 
the  sweetest  smile,  that  though  he  had  made  it  a sol- 
emn rule  never  to  be  a party  to  making  up  any  mar- 
riage, yet  in  our  case  Heaven  had  so  plainly  pointed 
us  out  for  each  other,  etc.,  etc.,  that  he  could  not  re- 


HYPATIA. 


563 


fuse  himself  the  pleasure  . . . and  ended  by  a blessing- 
as  kindly  as  ever  came  from  the  lips  of  man.” 

“You  seem  wonderfully  taken  with  the  sophist  of 
Hippo/’ said  Hypatia,  impatiently;  “and  forg-et,  per- 
haps, that  his  opinions,  especially  when,  as  you  confess, 
they  are  utterly  inconsistent  with  themselves,  are  not 
quite  as  important  to  me  as  they  seem  to  have  become 
to  you.” 

“ Whether  he  be  consistent  or  not  about  marriag-e,” 
said  Raphael,  somewhat  proudly,  “ I care  little.  I 
went  to  him  to  tell  me,  not  about  the  relation  of  the 
sexes,  on  which  point  I am  probably  as  g-ood  a judge 
as  he— but  about  God;  and  on  that  subject  he  told 
me  enough  to  bring  me  back  to  Alexandria,  that  I 
might  undo,  if  possible,  somewhat  of  the  wrong  which 
I have  done  to  Hypatia.” 

“What  wrong  have  you  done  me?  . . . You  are 
silent  ? Be  sure,  at  least,  that  whatsoever  it  may  be, 
you  will  not  wipe  it  out  by  trying  to  make  a proselyte 
of  me.” 

“Be  not  too  sure  of  that.  I have  found  too  great  a 
treasure  not  to  wish  to  share  it  with  Theon’s  daughter.” 

“A  treasure!”  said  she,  half  scornfully. 

“Yes  indeed.  'You  recollect  my  last  words,  when 
we  parted  there  below  a few  months  ago  ? ” 

Hypatia  was  silent.  One  terrible  possibility  at 
which  he  had  hinted  flashed  across  her  memory  for 
the  first  time  since,  . . . but  she  spurned  proudly  from 
her  the  heaven-sent  warning. 

“ I told  you  that,  like  Diogenes,  I went  forth  to  seek 
a man.  Did  I not  promise  you,  that  when  I had  found 
one  you  should  be  the  first  to  hear  of  him  ? And  I 
have  found  a man.” 

Hypatia  waved  her  beautiful  hand.  “ I know  whom 
you  would  say  . . . that  crucified  one.  Be  it  so.  I 
want  not  a man,  but  a god.” 


564 


HYPATIA. 


“ What  sort  of  a god,  Hypatia  ? A god  made  up  of 
our  own  intellectual  notions,  or  rather  of  negations  of 
them— of  infinity,  and  eternity,  and  invisibility,  and 
impassibility  and  why  not  of  immortality,  too,  Hypatia  ? 
For  I recollect  we  used  to  agree  that  it  was  a carnal 
degrading  of  the  Supreme  One  to  predicate  of  Him  so 
merely  human  a thing  as  virtue.” 

Hypatia  was  silent. 

"Now  I have  always  had  a sort  of  fancy  that  what 
we  wanted,  as  the  first  predicate  of  our  Absolute  One, 
was  that  he  was  to  be  not  merely  an  infinite  God — 
whatever  that  meant,  which  I suspect  we  did  not 
always  see  quite  clearly — or  an  eternal  one — or  an 
omnipotent  one — or  even  merely  a one  God  at  all; 
none  of  which  predicates,  I fear,  did  we  understand 
more  clearly  than  the  first : but  that  He  must  be  a 
righteous  God : — or  rather,  as  we  used  sometimes  to 
say,  that  He  was  to  have  ho  predicate — Righteousness 
itself.  And  all  along  I could  not  help  remembering 
that  my  old,  sacred  Hebrew  books  told  me  of  such  a 
one;  and  feeling  that  they  might  have  something  to 
tell  me  which ” 

" Which  I did  not  tell  you ! And  this,  then,  caused 
your  air  of  reserve,  and  of  sly  superiority  over  the 
woman  whom  you  mocked  by  calling  her  your  pupil ! 
I little  suspected  you  of  so  truly  Jewish  a jealousy! 
why,  oh,  why,  did  you  not  tell  me  this  ? ” 

"Because  I was  a beast,  Hypatia;  and  had  all  but 
forgotten  what  this  righteousness  was  like;  and  was 
afraid  to  find  out  lest  it  should  condemn  me.  Because 
I was  a devil,  Hypatia;  and  hated  righteousness,  and 
neither  wished  to  see  you  righteous,  or  God  righteous 
either,  because  then  you  would  both  have  been  unlike 
myself.  God  be  merciful  to  me  a sinner!  ” 

She  looked  up  in  his  face.  The  man  was  changed  as 


HYPATIA. 


565 


if  by  a miracle — and  yet  not  changed.  There  was  the 
same  gallant  consciousness  of  power,  the  same  subtle 
and  humorous  twinkle  in  those  strong,  ripe,  Jewish 
features  and  those  glittering  eyes : and  yet  every  line 
in  his  face  was  softened,  sweetened;  the  mask  of  sneer- 
ing faineance  was  gone — imploring  tenderness  and 
earnestness  beamed  from  his  whole  countenance.  The 
chrysalis  case  had  fallen  off,  and  disclosed  the  butterfly 
within.  She  sat  looking  at  him,  and  passed  her  hand 
across  her  eyes,  as  if  to  try  whether  the  apparition 
would  not  vanish.  He,  the  subtle!  he,  the  mocker! 
he,  the  Lucian  of  Alexandria!  he  whose  depth  and 
power  had  awed  her,  even  in  his  most  polluted  days. 
. . . And  this  was  the  end  of  him.  . . . 

“ It  is  a freak  of  cowardly  superstition.  . . . Those 
Christians  have  been  frightening  him  about  his  sins 
and  their  Tartarus.” 

She  looked  again  into  his  bright,  clear,  fearless  face, 
and  was  ashamed  of  her  own  calumny.  And  this  was 
the  end  of  him — of  Synesius — of  Augustine — of  learned 
and  unlearned,  Goth  and  Roman.  . . . The  great  flood 
would  have  its  way,  then.  . . . Could  she  alone  fight 
against  it  ? 

She  could!  Would  she  submit?  She?  Her  will 
should  stand  firm,  her  reason  free,  to  the  last — to  the 
death  if  need  be.  . . . And  yet  last  night ! last  night ! 

At  last  she  spoke,  without  looking  up. 

“And  what  if  37ou  have  found  a man  in  that  crucified 
one  ? Have  you  found  in  him  a God  also  ? 99 

“Does  Hypatia  recollect  Glaucon's  definition  of  the 
perfectly  righteous  man  ? . . . How,  without  being 
guilty  of  one  unrighteous  act,  ho  must  labor  his  life 
long  under  the  imputation  of  being  utterly  unrighteous, 
in  order  that  his  disinterestedness  may  be  thoroughly 
tested,  and  by  proceeding  in  such  a course,  arrive  in- 


566 


HYPATIA. 


evitably,  as  Glaucon  says,  not  only  in  Athens  of  old, 
or  in  Judea  of  old,  but,  as  you  yourself  will  agree,  in 
Christian  Alexandria  at  this  moment,  at — do  you  re- 
member, Hypatia  ? — bonds,  and  the  scourge,  and  lastly, 
at  the  cross  itself.  ...  If  Plato's  idea  of  the  righteous 
man  be  a crucified  one,  why  may  not  mine  also?  If 
as  we  both — and  old  Bishop  Clemens,  too — as  good  a 
Platonist  as  we,  remember — and  Augustine  himself 
would  agree,  Plato  in  speaking  those  strange  words, 
spoke  not  of  himself,  but  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  why 
should  not  others  have  spoken  by  the  same  Spirit 
when  they  spoke  the  same  words  ? " 

“A  crucified  man.  . . . Yes.  But  a crucified  God, 
Raphael!  I shudder  at  the  blasphemy." 

“ So  do  my  poor  dear  fellow-countrymen.  Are  they 
the  more  righteous  in  their  daily  doings,  Hypatia,  on 
account  of  their  fancied  reverence  for  the  glory  of  One 
who  probably  knows  best  how  to  preserve  and  mani- 
fest His  own  glory  ? But  you  assent  to  the  definition  ? 
Take  care ! " said  he,  with  one  of  his  arch  smiles,  “ I 
have  been  fighting  with  Augustine,  and  have  become 
of  late  a terrible  dialectician.  Do  you  assent  to  it  ? " 

“ Of  course — it  is  Plato's." 

“ But  do  you  assent  merely  because  it  is  written  in 
the  book  called  Plato's,  or  because  your  reason  tells 
you  that  it  is  true?  . . . You  will  not  tell  me.  Tell 
me  this,  then,  at  least.  Is  not  the  perfectly  righteous 
man  the  highest  specimen  of  man  ? " 

“ Surely,"  said  she,  half  carelessly;  but  not  unwilling, 
like  a philosopher  and  a Greek,  as  a matter  of  course, 
to  embark  in  an3rthing  like  a word-battle,  and  to  shut 
out  sadder  thoughts  for  a moment. 

“ Then  must  not  the  Autanthropos,  the  archetypal 
and  ideal  man,  who  is  more  perfect  than  any  individual 
specimen,  be  perfectly  righteous  also?" 


HYPATIA. 


567 


“Yes” 

“ Suppose,  then,  for  the  sake  of  one  of  those  pleasant 
old  games  of  ours,  an  argument,  that  he  wished  to 
manifest  his  righteousness  to  the  world.  . . . The  only 
method  for  him,  according  to  Plato,  would  he  Glau- 
con’s,  of  calumny  and  persecution,  the  scourge  and 
the  cross  ? ” 

“What  words  are  these,  Raphael?  Material 
scourges  and  crosses  for  an  eternal  and  spiritual 
idea  ? ” 

“ Did  you  ever  yet,  Hypatia,  consider  at  leisure  what 
the  archetype  of  man  might  be  like  ? ” 

Hypatia  started,  as  at  a new  thought,  and  confessed 
— as  every  Neo-Platonist  would  have  done — that  she 
had  never  done  so. 

“And  yet  our  master,  Plato,  bade  us  believe  that 
there  was  a substantial  archetype  of  each  thing,  from 
a flower  to  a nation,  eternal  in  the  heavens.  Perhaps 
we  have  not  been  faithful  Platonists  enough  hereto- 
fore, my  dearest  tutor.  Perhaps,  being  philosophers, 
and  somewhat  of  Pharisees  to  boot,  we  began  all  our 
lucubrations  as  we  did  our  prayers,  by  thanking  God 
that  we  were  not  as  other  men  were;  and  so  misread 
another  passage  in  the  Republic,  which  we  used  in 
pleasant  old  days  to  be  fond  of  quoting.” 

“ What  was  that  ? ” asked  Hypatia,  who  became 
more  and  more  interested  every  moment. 

“ That  philosophers  were  men.” 

“Are  you  mocking  me  ? Plato  defines  the  philoso- 
pher as  the  man  who  seeks  after  the  objects  of  knowl- 
edge, while  others  seek  after  those  of  opinion.” 

“And  most  truly.  But  what  if,  in  our  eagerness  to 
assert  that  wherein  the  philosopher  differed  from 
other  men,  we  had  overlooked  that  in  which  he  resem- 
bled other  men;  and  so  forget  that,  after  all,  man 


568 


HYPATIA. 


was  a genus  whereof  the  philosopher  was  only  a 
species  ? ” 

Hypatia  sighed. 

" Do  you  not  think,  then,  that  as  the  greater  con- 
tains the  less,  and  the  archetype  of  the  genus  that  of 
the  species,  we  should  have  been  wiser  if  we  had  specu- 
lated a little  more  on  the  archetype  of  man  as  man, 
before  we  meddled  with  a part  of  that  archetype — the 
archetype  of  the  philosopher  ? . . . Certainly  it  would 
have  been  the  easier  course,  for  there  are  more  men 
than  philosophers,  Hypatia;  and  every  man  is  a real 
man,  and  a fair  subject  for  examination,  while  every 
philosopher  is  not  a real  philosopher — our  friends  the 
Academics,  for  instance,  and  even  a Neo-Platonist  or 
two  whom  we  know  ? You  seem  impatient!  Shall  I 
cease  ? ” 

"You  mistook  the  cause  of  my  impatience,”  an- 
swered she,  looking  up  at  him  with  her  great  sad  e3^es. 
" Go  on.” 

"Now — for  I am  going  to  be  terribly  scholastic — is 
it  not  the  very  definition  of  man,  that  he  is,  alone  of 
all  known  things,  a spirit  temporarily  united  to  an 
animal  body  ? ” 

" Enchanted  in  it,  as  in  a dungeon,  rather,”  said  she, 
sighing. 

" Be  it  so  if  you  will.  But — must  we  not  say  that 
the  archetype — the  very  man — that  if  he  is  the  arche- 
type, he  too  will  be,  or  must  have  been,  once  at  least, 
temporarily  enchanted  into  an  animal  body  ? ...  You 
are  silent.  I will  not  press  you.  . . . Only  ask  you  to 
consider  at  your  leisure  whether  Plato  may  not  justify 
somewhat  from  the  charge  of  absurdity  the  fisherman 
of  Galilee,  where  he  said  that  He  in  whose  image  man 
is  made  was  made  flesh,  and  dwelt  with  him  bodily 
there  by  the  lake-side  at  Tiberias,  and  that  he  beheld 


HYPATIA. 


569 


His  glory,  the  glory  as  of  the  only-begotten  of  the 
Father.” 

“That  last  question  is  a very  different  one.  God 
made  flesh ! My  reason  revolts  at  it.” 

“ Old  Homer's  reason  did  not.” 

Hypatia  started,  for  she  recollected  her  yesterday's 
cravings  after  those  old,  palpable,  and  human  deities. 
And — “ Go  on,”  she  cried,  eagerly. 

“ Tell  me,  then — this  archetype  of  man,  if  it  exists 
anywhere,  it  must  exist  eternally  in  the  mind  of  God  ? 
At  least,  Plato  would  have  so  said  ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“And  derive  its  existence  immediately  from  Him  ?" 

“ Yes.” 

“But  a man  is  one  willing  person,  unlike  to  all 
others  ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then  his  archetype  must  be  such.” 

“ I suppose  so.” 

“ But  possessing  the  faculties  and  properties  of  all 
men  in  their  highest  perfection.” 

“Of  course.” 

“ How  sweetly  and  obediently  my  late  teacher  be- 
comes my  pupil ! ” 

Hypatia  looked  at  him  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears. 

“ I never  taught  you  anything,  Raphael.” 

“You  taught  me  most,  beloved  lady,  when  you  least 
thought  of  it.  But  tell  me  one  thing  more.  Is  it  not 
the  property  of  every  man  to  be  a son  ? For  you  can 
conceive  of  a man  as  not  being  a father,  but  not  as 
not  being  a son.” 

“ Be  it  so.” 

“ Then  this  archetype  must  be  a son  also.” 

“ Whose  son,  Raphael  ? ” 

“Why  not  of  f Zeus,  father  of  gods  and  men?'  For 


570 


HYPATIA. 


we  agreed  that  it — we  will  call  it  he,  now,  having 
agreed  that  it  is  a person — could  owe  its  existence  to 
none  hut  God  himself.” 

“And  what  then  ? ” said  Hypatia,  fixing  those  glori- 
ous eyes  full  on  his  face,  in  an  agony  of  doubt,  but  yet, 
as  Raphael  declared  to  his  dying  day,  of  hope  and  joy. 

“ Well,  Hypatia,  and  must  not  a son  be  of  the  same 
species  as  his  father  ? ‘ Eagles/  says  the  poet, do  not 
beget  doves/  Is  the  word  son  anything  but  an  empty 
and  false  metaphor,  unless  the  son  be  the  perfect  and 
equal  likeness  of  his  father  ? ” 

“ Heroes  beget  sons  worse  than  themselves,  says  the 
poet.” 

“We  are  not  talking  now  of  men  as  they  are,  whom 
Homer’s  Zeus  calls  the  most  wretched  of  all  the  beasts 
of  the  field;  we  are  talking — are  we  not  ? — of  a perfect 
and  archetypal  Bon,  and  a perfect  and  archetypal 
Father,  in  a perfect  and  eternal  world,  wherein  is 
neither  growth,  decay,  nor  change;  and  of  a perfect 
and  archetypal  generation,  of  which  the  only  defini- 
tion can  be,  that  like  begets  its  perfect  like  ? ...  You 
are  silent.  Be  so,  Hypatia.  ...  We  have  gone  too 
far  into  the  abysses.”  . . . 

And  so  they  both  were  silent  for  a while.  And 
Raphael  thought  solemn  thoughts  about  Victoria, 
and  about  ancient  signs  of  Isaiah’s  which  were  to  him 
none  the  less  prophecies  concerning  The  Man  whom  he 
had  found,  because  he  prayed  and  trusted  that  the 
same  signs  might  be  repeated  to  himself,  and  a child 
given  to  him  also,  as  a token  that,  in  spite  of  all  his 
baseness,  “ God  was  with  him.” 

But  he  was  a Jew,  and  a man:  Hypatia  was  a 
Greek,  and  a woman — and  for  that  matter,  so  were 
the  men  of  her  school.  To  her,  the  relations  and  duties 
of  common  humanity  shone  with  none  of  the  awful 


HYPATIA. 


571 


and  divine  meaning*  which  they  did  in  the  eyes  of  the 
converted  Jew,  wakened  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
to  know  the  meaning  of  his  own  scriptures,  and  be- 
come an  Israelite  indeed.  And  Raphael's  dialectic, 
too,  though  it  might  silence  her,  could  not  convince 
her.  Her  creed,  like  those  of  her  fellow-philosophers, 
was  one  of  the  fancy  and  the  religious  sentiment, 
rather  than  of  the  reason  and  the  moral  sense.  All 
the  brilliant  cloud-world  in  which  she  had  revelled  for 
years  — cosmogonies,  emanations,  affinities,  symbol- 
isms, hierarchies,  abysses,  eternities,  and  the  rest  of  it 
— though  she  could  not  rest  in  them,  not  even  believe 
in  them — though  they  had  vanished  into  thin  air  at 
her  most  utter  need — yet  they  were  too  pretty  to  be 
lost  sight  of  forever;  and,  struggling  against  the 
growing  conviction  of  her  reason,  she  answered  at 
last — 

“And  you  would  have  me  give  up,  as  you  seem  to 
have  done,  the  sublime,  the  beautiful,  the  heavenly, 
for  a dry  and  barren  chain  of  dialectic — in  which,  for 
aught  I know — for  after  all,  Raphael,  I cannot  cope 
with  you — I am  a woman — a weak  woman ! ” 

And  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

“ For  aught  you  now,  what  ? " asked  Raphael  gently. 

“You  may  have  made  the  worse  appear  the  better 
reason." 

“So  said  Aristophanes  of  Socrates.  But  hear  me 
once  more,  beloved  Hypatia.  You  refuse  to  give  up 
the  beautiful,  the  sublime,  the  heavenly  ? What  if 
Raphael  Aben-Ezra,  at  least,  had  never  found  them 
till  now  ? Recollect  what  I said  just  now — what  if  our 
Beautiful,  and  Sublime,  and  Heavenly,  had  been  the 
sheerest  materialism,  notions  spun  by  our  own  brains 
out  of  the  impressions  of  pleasant  things,  and  high 
things,  and  low  things,  and  awful  things,  which  we 


572 


HYPATIA. 


had  seen  with  our  bodily  eyes  ? What  if  I had  discov- 
ered that  the  spiritual  is  not  the  intellectual,  but  the 
moral;  and  that  the  spiritual  world  is  not,  as  we  used 
to  make  it,  a world  of  our  own  intellectual  abstrac- 
tions, or  of  our  own  physical  emotions,  religious  or 
other,  but  a world  of  righteous  or  unrighteous  per- 
sons ? What  if  I had  discovered  that  one  law  of  the 
spiritual  world,  in  which  others  were  contained,  was 
righteousness  and  that  disharmony  with  that  law, 
which  we  called  unspirituality,  was  not  being  vulgar, 
or  clumsy,  or  ill-taught,  or  unimaginative,  or  dull,  but 
simply  being  unrighteous  ? What  if  I had  discovered 
that  righteousness,  and  it  alone,  was  the  beautiful, 
righteousness  the  sublime,  the  heavenly,  the  God-like 
— ay,  God  himself?  And,  what  if  it  had  dawned  on 
me,  as  by  a great  sunrise,  what  that  righteousness 
was  like  ? What  if  I had  seen  a human  being,  a wo- 
man too,  a young,  weak  girl,  showing  forth  the  glory 
and  the  beauty  of  God  ? Showing  me  that  the  beau- 
tiful was  to  mingle  unshrinking,  for  duty's  sake,  with 
all  that  is  most  foul  and  loathsome : that  the  sublime 
was  to  stoop  to  the  most  menial  offices,  the  most  out- 
wardly degrading  self-denials;  that  to  be  heavenly, 
was  to  know  that  the  commonest  relations,  the  most 
vulgar  duties,  of  earth,  were  God's  commands,  and 
only  to  be  performed  aright  by  the  help  of  the  same 
spirit  by  which  He  rules  the  Universe;  that  righteous- 
ness was  to  love,  to  suffer  for — if  need  be,  to  die  for — 
those  who,  in  themselves,  seem  fitted  to  arouse  no 
feelings  except  indignation  and  disgust  ? What  if,  for 
the  first  time,  I trust  not  for  the  last  time,  in  my  life 
I saw  this  vision ; and  at  the  sight  of  it  my  eyes  were 
opened  and  1 knew  it  for  the  likeness  and  the  glory  of 
God!  What  if  I,  a Platonist,  like  John  of  Galilee,  and 
Paul  of  Tarsus,  yet,  like  them,  a Hebrew  of  the  He- 


HYPATIA. 


573 


brews,  had  confessed  to  myself.  If  the  creature  can 
love  thus,  how  much  more  its  archetype?  If  weak 
woman  can  endure  thus,  how  much  more  a Son  of 
God  ? If  for  the  good  of  others,  man  has  strength  to 
sacrifice  himself  in  part,  God  will  have  strength  to 
sacrifice  Himself  utterly.  If  He  has  not  done  it,  He 
will  do  it;  or  He  will  be  less  beautiful,  less  sublime, 
less  heavenly,  less  righteous  than  my  poor  conception 
of  Him,  ay,  than  this  weak,  playful  girl ! Why  should 
I not  believe  those  who  tell  me  that  He  has  done  it 
already  ? What  if  their  evidence  be,  after  all,  only 
probability  ? I do  not  want  mathematical  demonstra- 
tion to  prove  to  me  that  when  a child  was  in  danger 
its  father  saved  him — neither  do  I here.  My  reason, 
my  heart,  every  faculty  of  me,  except  this  stupid 
sensuous  experience,  which  I find  deceiving  you  every 
moment,  which  cannot  even  prove  to  me  my  own  ex- 
istence, accepts  that  story  of  Calvary  as  the  most 
natural,  most  probable,  most  necessary  of  earthly 
events,  assuming  only  that  God  is  a righteous  Person, 
and  not  some  dream  of  an  all-pervading  necessary 
spirit — nonsense  which,  in  its  very  terms,  confesses  its 
own  materialism.” 

Hypatia  answered  with  a forced  smile. 

“ Raphael  Aben-Ezra  has  deserted  the  method  of 
the  severe  dialectician  for  that  of  the  eloquent  lover.” 

“Not  altogether,”  said  he,  smiling  in  return,  “for 
suppose  that  I had  said  to  myself,  We  Platonists  agree 
that  the  sight  of  God  is  the  highest  good.” 

Hypatia  once  more  shuddered  at  last  night’s  recol- 
lection. 

“And  if  He  be  righteous,  and  righteousness  be — as  I 
know  it  to  be — identical  with  love,  then  He  will  desire 
that  highest  good  for  men  far  more  than  they  can  de- 
sire it  for  themselves.  . . . Then  He  will  desire  to  show 


574 


HYPATIA. 


Himself  and  His  own  righteousness  to  them.  . . . Will 
you  make  answer,  dearest  Hypatia,  or  shall  I?  . . . 
or  does  your  silence  give  consent  ? At  least  let  me  go 
on  to  say  this,  that  if  God  do  desire  to  show  His  right- 
eousness to  men,  His  only  perfect  method,  according  to 
Plato,  will  be  that  of  calumny,  persecution,  the  scourge, 
and  the  cross,  that  so  he,  like  Glaucon’s  righteous 
man,  may  remain  forever  free  from  any  suspicion  of 
selfish  interest,  or  weakness  of  endurance.  . . . Am  I 
deserting  the  dialectic  method  now,  Hypatia?  . . . 
You  are  still  silent  ? You  will  not  hear  me,  I see.  . . . 
At  some  future  day,  the  philosopher  may  condescend 
to  lend  a kinder  ear  to  the  words  of  her  greatest 
debtor.  . . . Or,  rather,  she  may  condescend  to  hear, 
in  her  own  heart,  the  voice  of  that  Archetypal  Man, 
who  has  been  loving  her,  guiding  her,  heaping  her 
with  every  perfection  of  body  and  of  mind,  inspiring 
her  with  all  pure  and  noble  longing,  and  only  asks  of 
her  to  listen  to  her  own  reason,  her  own  philosophy, 
when  they  proclaim  Him  as  the  giver  of  them,  and  to 
impart  them  freely  and  humbly,  as  He  has  imparted 
them  to  her,  to  the  poor,  and  the  brutish,  and  the  sin- 
ful, whom  He  loves  as  well  as  He  loves  her.  . . . 
Farewell!” 

“Stay!”  said  she,  springing  up;  “whither  are  you 
going  ? ” 

“ To  do  a little  good  before  I die,  having  done  much 
evil.  To  farm,  plant,  and  build,  and  rescue  a little 
corner  of  Ormuzd’s  earth,  as  the  Persians  would  say, 
out  of  the  dominion  of  Ahrimon.  To  fight  Ausurian 
robbers,  feed  Thracian  mercenaries,  save  a few  widows 
from  starvation,  and  a few  orphans  from  slavery.  . . . 
Perhaps  to  leave  behind  me  a son  of  David’s  line,  who 
will  be  a better  Jew,  because  a better  Christian,  than 
his  father.  ...  We  shall  have  trouble  in  the  flesh. 


HYPATIA. 


575 


Augustine  tells  us.  . . . But,  as  I answered  him,  I 
really  have  had  so  little  thereof  yet,  that  my  fair  share 
may  probably  be  rather  a useful  education,  than  other- 
wise. Farewell ! ” 

“ Stay ! ” said  she.  “ Come  again ! again ! And  her. 
. . . Bring  her.  ...  I must  see  her!  She  must  be 
noble,  indeed,  to  be  worthy  of  you.” 

“ She  is  many  a hundred  miles  away.” 

“ Ah  ! Perhaps  she  might  have  taught  something 
to  me — me,  the  philosopher!  You  need  not  have 
feared  me.  I have  no  heart  to  make  converts  now 
. . . . O Raphael  Aben-Ezra,  why  break  the  bruised 
reed  ? My  plans  are  scattered  to  the  winds,  my  pupils 
worthless,  my  fair  name  tarnished,  my  conscience 
heavy  with  the  thought  of  my  own  cruelty.  ...  If 
you  do  not  know  all,  you  will  know  it  but  too  soon 
....  My  last  hope,  Synesius,  implores  for  himself  the 
hope  which  I need  from  him.  . . . And,  over  and  above 
it  all  ...  You!  ...  Et  tu,  Brute!  Why  not  fold 
my  mantle  round  me,  like  Julius  of  old,  and  die!” 
Raphael  stood  looking  sadly  at  her,  as  her  whole 
face  sank  into  utter  prostration. 

* * * * 

“Yes — come.  . . . The  Galilgean.  . . . If  he  conquers 
strong  men,  can  the  weak  maid  resist  him  ? Come 
soon.  . . . This  afternoon.  . . . My  heart  is  breaking 
fast.” 

“ At  the  eighth  hour  this  afternoon?  ” 

“Yes.  . . . At  noon  I lecture  . . . take  my  farewell, 
rather,  forever  of  the  schools.  . . . Gods ! What  have 
I to  say?  . . . And  tell  me  about  Him  of  Nazareth. 
Farewell ! ” 

“ Farewell,  beloved  lady!  At  the  ninth  hour,  you 
shall  hear  of  Him  of  Nazareth.” 

Why  did  his  own  words  sound  to  him  strangely 


576 


HYPATIA. 


pregnant,  all  but  ominous  ? He  almost  fancied  that 
not  he,  but  some  third  person  had  spoken  them.  He 
kissed  Hypatia's  hand.  It  was  as  cold  as  ice ; and  his 
heart,  too,  in  spite  of  all  his  bliss,  felt  cold  and  heavy, 
as  he  left  the  room. 

As  he  went  down  the  steps  into  the  street,  a young 
man  sprang  from  behind  one  of  the  pillars,  and  seized 
his  arm. 

“ Aha ! my  young  Coryphaeus  of  pious  plunderers ! 
What  do  you  want  with  me?” 

Pliilammon,  for  it  was  he,  looked  at  him  an  instant, 
and  recognized  him. 

“ Save  her ! for  the  love  of  God,  save  her ! " 

“ Whom  ? " 

“ Hypatia ! " 

“ How  long  has  her  salvation  been  important  to 
you,  my  good  friend  ? " 

“ For  God's  sake,"  said  Philammon,  “ go  back  and 
warn  her ! She  will  hear  you — you  are  rich — you  used 
to  be  her  friend — I know  you — I have  heard  of  you. 
. . . Oh,  if  you  ever  cared  for  her  — if  you  ever  felt 
for  her  a thousandth  part  of  what  I feel — go  in  and 
warn  her  not  to  stir  from  home ! " 

“ I must  hear  more  of  this,"  said  Raphael,  who  saw 
that  the  boy  was  in  earnest.  “ Come  in  with  me,  and 
speak  to  her  father." 

“No!  not  in  that  house!  Never  in  that  house 
again!  Do  not  ask  me  why:  but  go  yourself.  She 
will  not  hear  me.  Did  you — did  you  prevent  her  from 
listening  ? " 

“ What  do  you  mean  ? " 

“ I have  been  here — ages ! I sent  a note  in  by  her 
maid,  and  she  returned  no  answer." 

Raphael  recollected  then,  for  the  first  time,  a note 
which  he  had  seen  brought  to  her  during  the  conversa- 
tion. 


HYPATIA. 


577 


“ I saw  her  receive  a note.  She  tossed  it  away.  Tell 
me  your  story.  If  there  is  reason  in  it,  I will  bear 
your  message  myself.  Of  what  is  she  to  be  warned  ? ” 
" Of  a plot — I know  that  there  is  a plot — against  her 
among  the  monks  and  parabolani.  As  I lay  in  bed 
this  morning  in  Arsenius’s  room — they  thought  I was 
asleep ” 

" Arsen ius  ? Has  that  venerable  fanatic,  then,  gone 
the  way  of  all  monastic  flesh,  and  turned  persecutor  ? ” 
"God  forbid!  I heard  him  beseeching  Peter  the 
Reader  to  refrain  fr.om  something,  I cannot  tell  what; 
but  I caught  her  name.  ...  I heard  Peter  say,  ‘ She 
that  hindereth,  will  hinder  till  she  be  taken  out  of  the 
way.’  And  when  he  went  out  into  the  passage  I heard 
him  say  to  another, f That  thou  doest,  do  quickly ! 9 99 
" These  are  slender  grounds,  my  friend.” 

" Ah,  you  do  not  know  of  what  those  men  are  capa- 
ble!” 

" Do  I not  ? Where  did  you  and  I meet  last  ? ” 
Philammon  blushed  and  burst  forth  again.  “ That 
was  enough  for  me.  I know  the  hatred  which  they 
bear  her,  the  crimes  which  they  attribute  to  her.  Her 
house  would  have  been  attacked  last  night  had  it  not 
been  for  Cyril.  . . . And  I knew  Peter’s  tone.  He 
spoke  too  gently  and  softly  not  to  mean  something 
devilish.  I watched  all  the  morning  for  an  opportunity 
of  escape,  and  here  I am!  Will  you  take  my  message, 

or  see  her ” 

" What?” 

" God  only  knows,  and  the  devil  whom  they  worship 
instead  of  God.” 

Raphael  hurried  back  into  the  house — "Could  he 
see  Hypatia  ? ” She  had  shut  herself  up  in  her  private 
room,  strictly  commanding  that  no  visitor  should  be 
admitted.  . . . "Where  was  Theon,  then?”  He  had 
37 


578 


HYPATIA. 


gone  out  by  the  canal  gate  half  an  hour  before,  with  a 
bundle  of  mathematical  papers  under  his  arm,  no  one 
knew  whither.  . . . 

“ Imbecile  old  idiot ! ” and  he  hastily  wrote  on  his 
tablet — 

“ Do  not  despise  the  young  monk’s  warning.  I be- 
lieve him  to  speak  the  truth.  As  you  love  yourself 
and  your  father,  Hypatia,  stir  not  out  to-day.” 

He  bribed  a maid  to  take  the  message  up-stairs ; and 
passed  his  time  in  the  hall  in  warning  the  servants. 
But  they  would  not  believe  him.  It  was  true  the  shops 
were  shut  in  some  quarters,  and  the  Museum  gardens 
empty;  people  were  a little  frightened  after  yesterday. 
But  Cyril,  they  had  heard  for  certain,  had  threatened 
excommunication  only  last  night  to  any  Christian  who 
broke  the  peace;  and  there  had  not  been  a monk  to  be 
seen  in  the  streets  the  whole  morning.  And  as  for 
any  harm  happening  to  their  mistress — impossible! 
“ The  very  wild  beasts  would  not  tear  her,”  said  the 
huge  negro  porter,  “ if  she  were  thrown  into  the  am- 
phitheatre.” 

Whereat  a maid  boxed  his  ears  for  talking  of  such 
a thing;  and  then,  by  way  of  mending  it,  declared 
that  she  knew  for  certain,  that  her  mistress  could  turn 
aside  the  lightning,  and  call  legions  of  spirits  to  fight 
for  her  with  a nod.  . . . What  was  to  be  done  with 
such  idolaters  ? And  yet  who  could  help  liking  them 
the  better  for  it  ? 

At  last  the  answer  came  down,  in  the  old  graceful, 
studied,  self-conscious  handwriting. 

“ It  is  a strange  way  of  persuading  me  to  your  new 
faith,  to  bid  me  beware,  on  the  very  first  day  of  your 
preaching,  of  the  wickedness  of  those  who  believe  it. 
I thank  you;  but  your  affection  for  me  makes  you 
timorous.  I dread  nothing.  They  will  not  dare.  Did 


HYPATIA. 


579 


they  dare  now,  they  would  have  dared  long'  ago.  As 
for  that  youth — to  obey  or  to  believe  his  word,  even 
to  seem  aware  of  his  existence,  were  shame  to  me 
henceforth.  Because  he  is  insolent  enough  to  wrarn 
me,  therefore  I will  go.  Fear  not  for  me.  You  would 
not  wish  me,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  to  fear  for 
myself.  I must  follow  my  destiny.  I must  speak  the 
words  which  I have  to  speak.  Above  all,  I must  let 
no  Christian  say,  that  the  philosopher  dared  less  than 
the  fanatic.  If  my  gods  are  gods,  then  will  they 
protect  me : and  if  not,  let  your  God  prove  His  rule  as 
seems  to  Him  good/’ 

Raphael  tore  the  letter  to  fragments.  . . . The 
guards,  at  least,  were  not  gone  mad  like  the  rest  of 
the  world.  It  wanted  half  an  hour  of  the  time  of  her 
lecture.  In  the  interval  he  might  summon  force 
enough  to  crush  all  Alexandria.  And  turning  sud- 
denly, he  darted  out  of  the  room  and  out  of  the  house. 

“Quem  Deus  vult  perdere — l”  cried  he  to  Philam- 
mon,  with  a gesture  of  grief.  “Stay  here  and  stop 
her!  make  a last  appeal.  Drag  the  horses’  heads 
down,  if  you  can!  I will  be  back  in  ten  minutes.” 
And  he  ran  off  for  the  nearest  gate  of  the  Museum 
gardens. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  gardens  lay  the  courtyard 
of  the  palace.  There  were  gates  in  plenty  commu- 
nicating between  them.  If  he  could  but  see  Orestes, 
even  alarm  the  guard  in  time ! . . . 

And  he  hurried  through  the  walks  and  alcoves,  now 
deserted  by  the  fearful  citizens,  to  the  nearest  gate. 
It  was  fast,  and  barricaded  firmly  on  the  outside. 

Terrified,  he  ran  on  to  the  next;  it  was  barred  also. 
He  saw  the  reason  in  a moment,  and  maddened  as  he 
saw  it.  The  guards,  careless  about  the  Museum,  or 
reasonably  fearing  no  danger  from  the  Alexandrian 


580 


HYPATIA. 


populace  to  the  glory  and  wonder  of  their  city,  or 
perhaps  wishing  wisely  enough  to  concentrate  their 
forces  in  the  narrowest  space,  had  contented  them- 
selves with  cutting  off  all  communication  with  the 
gardens,  and  so  converting  the  lofty  partition  wall 
into  the  outer  enceinte  of  their  marble  citadel.  At  all 
events,  the  doors  leading  from  the  Museum  itself  might 
be  open.  He  knew  them  every  one,  every  hall,  passage 
statue,  picture,  almost  every  book  in  that  vast  treasure- 
house  of  ancient  civilization.  He  found  an  entrance; 
hurried  through  well-known  corridors  to  a postern 
through  which  he  and  Orestes  had  lounged  a hundred 
times,  their  lips  full  of  bad  words,  their  hearts  of  worse 
thoughts,  gathered  in  those  records  of  the  fair  wicked- 
ness of  old.  ...  It  was  fast.  He  beat  upon  it;  but 
no  one  answered.  He  rushed  on  and  tried  another. 
No  one  answered  there.  Another — still  silence  and 
despair!  . . . He  rushed  up-stairs,  hoping  that  from 
the  windows  above  he  might  be  able  to  call  the  guard. 
The  prudent  soldiers  had  locked  and  barricaded  the 
entrances  to  the  upper  floors  of  the  whole  right  wing, 
lest  the  palace  court  should  be  commanded  from 
thence.  Whither  now  ? Back  — and  whither  then  ? 
Back,  round  endless  galleries,  vaulted  halls,  staircases, 
door-ways,  some  fast,  some  open,  up  and  down,  trying 
this  way  and  that,  losing  himself  at  whiles  in  that 
enormous  silent  labyrinth.  And  his  breath  failed  him, 
his  throat  was  parched,  his  face  burned  as  with  the 
simoom  wind,  his  legs  were  trembling  under  him.  His 
presence  of  mind,  usually  so  perfect,  failed  him  utterly. 
He  was  baffled,  hetted;  there  was  a spell  upon  him. 
Was  it  a dream  ? Was  it  all  one  of  those  hideous 
nightmares  of  endless  pillars  beyond  pillars,  stairs 
above  stairs,  rooms  within  rooms,  changing,  shifting, 
lengthening  out  forever  and  forever  before  the  dreamer, 


HYPATIA. 


581 


narrowing,  closing  in  on  him,  choking  him  ? Was  it  a 
dream  ? Was  he  doomed  to  walk  forever  and  forever 
in  some  place  of  the  dead,  to  expatiate  the  sin  he  had 
learnt  and  done  therein  ? His  brain,  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  began  to  reel.  He  could  recollect  nothing 
but  that  something  dreadful  was  to  happen— and  that 
he  had  to  prevent  it,  and  could  not.  . . . Where  was 
he  now  ? In  a little  by-chamber.  . . . He  had  talked 
with  her  there  a hundred  times,  looking  out  over  the 
Pharos  and  the  blue  Mediterranean.  . . . What  wras 
that  roar  below  ? . . . A sea  of  weltering  yelling  heads, 
thousands  on  thousands,  down  into  the  very  beach; 
and  from  their  innumerable  throats  one  mighty  war- 
cry — “ God,  and  the  Mother  of  God ! 99  Cyril's  hounds 
were  loose.  . . . He  reeled  from  the  window,  and  darted 
frantically  away  again  . . . whither,  he  knew  not,  and 
never  knew  until  his  dying  day. 

And  Philammon?  . . . Sufficient  for  the  chapter, 
as  for  the  day,  is  the  evil  thereof. 


582 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  XXV III. 
woman’s  love. 

Pelagia  had  passed  that  night  alone  in  sleepless 
sorrow,  which  was  not  diminished  by  her  finding  her- 
self the  next  morning  palpably  a prisoner  in  her  own 
house.  Her  girls  told  her  that  they  had  orders — they 
would  not  say  from  whom  —to  prevent  her  leaving  her 
own  apartments.  And  though  some  of  them  made 
the  announcement  with  sighs  and  tears  of  condolence, 
yet  more  than  one,  she  could  see,  was  well  inclined  to 
make  her  feel  that  her  power  was  over,  and  that  there 
were  others  besides  herself  who  might  aspire  to  the 
honor  of  reigning  favorite. 

What  matter  to  her  ? Whispers,  sneers,  saucy  an- 
swers fell  on  her  ear  unheeded.  She  had  one  idol,  and 
she  had  lost  it;  one  power,  and  it  had  failed  her.  In 
the  heaven  above,  and  in  the  earth  beneath,  was 
neither  peace,  nor  help,  nor  hope;  nothing  but  black, 
blank,  stupid  terror  and  despair.  The  little  weak  in- 
fant soul,  which  had  just  awakened  in  her,  had  been 
crushed  and  stunned  in  its  very  birth-hour;  and  in- 
stinctively she  crept  away  to  the  roof  of  the  tower 
where  her  apartments  were,  to  sit  and  weep  alone. 

There  she  sat,  hour  after  hour,  beneath  the  shade  of 
the  large  wind-sail,  which  served  in  all  Alexandrian 
houses  the  double  purpose  of  a shelter  from  the  sun 
and  a ventilator  for  the  rooms  below;  and  her  eye  roved 
carelessly  over  that  endless  sea  of  roofs  and  towers, 
and  masts,  and  glittering  canals,  and  gliding  boats; 


HYPATIA. 


583 


but  she  saw  none  of  them— nothing  but  one  beloved 
face,  lost,  lost  forever. 

At  last  a low  whistle  roused  her  from  her  dream. 
She  looked  up.  Across  the  narrow  lane,  from  one  of 
the  embrasures  of  the  opposite  house  parapet,  bright 
eyes  were  peering  at  her.  She  moved  angrily  to  escape 
them. 

The  whistle  was  repeated,  and  a head  rose  cautiously 


There  she  sat,  hour  after  hour. 


above  the  parapet.  ...  It  was  MirianTs.  Casting  a 
careful  look  around,  Pelagia  went  forward.  What 
could  the  old  woman  want  with  her  ? 

Miriam  made  interrogative  signs,  which  Pelagia  un- 
derstood as  asking  her  whether  she  was  alone;  and 
the  moment  that  an  answer  in  the  negative  was  re- 
turned, Miriam  rose,  tossed  over  to  her  feet  a letter 
weighted  with  a pebble,  and  then  vanished  again. 


584 


HYPATIA. 


“I  have  watched  here  all  day.  They  refused  me 
admittance  beloAV.  Beware  of  Wulf,  of  every  one.  Do 
not  stir  from  your  chamber.  There  is  a plot  to  carry 
you  olf  to-night,  and  give  you  up  to  your  brother  the 
monk;  you  are  betrayed;  be  brave!" 

Pelagia  read  it  with  blanching  cheek  and  staring- 
eyes;  and  took,  at  least,  the  last  part  of  Miriam's  ad- 
vice. For  walking  down  the  stair,  she  passed  proudly 
through  her  own  rooms,  and  commanding  back  the 
girls  who  would  have  stayed  her,  with  a voice  and 
gesture  at  which  they  quailed,  went  straight  down, 
the  letter  m her  hand,  to  the  apartment  where  the 
Amal  usually  spent  his  midday  hours. 

As  she  approached  the  door,  she  heard  loud  Amices 
within.  . . . His!  yes;  but  Wulfs  also.  Her  heart 
failed  her,  and  she  stopped  a moment  to  listen.  . . . 
She  heard  H37patia's  name;  and  mad  with  curiosity, 
crouched  down  at  the  lock,  and  hearkened  to  every 
Avord. 

“She  will  not  accept  me,  Wulf." 

“If  she  Avill  not,  she  shall  go  farther  and  fare  worse. 
Besides,  I tell  you,  she  is  hard  run.  It  is  her  last 
chance,  and  she  aviII  jump  at  it.  The  Christians  are 
mad  Avith  her;  if  a storm  blows  up,  her  life  is  not 
worth — that ! " 

“ It  is  pity  that  we  have  not  brought  her  hither  al- 
ready." 

“It  is;  but  \\Te  could  not.  We  must  not  break  with 
Orestes  till  the  palace  is  in  our  hands." 

“And  will  it  ever  be  m our  hands,  friend  ? " 

“Certain.  We  were  round  at  every  picket  last 
night,  and  the  ATery  notion  of  an  Amahs  heading  them 
made  them  so  eager,  that  we  had  to  bribe  them  to  be 
quiet  rather  than  to  rise." 

“ Odin ! I wish  I were  among  them  noAv ! " 


HYPATIA. 


585 


“Wait  till  the  city  rises.  If  the  day  pass  over  with- 
out a riot,  I know  nothing-.  The  treasure  is  all  on 
board,  is  it  not  ? ” 

“Yes,  and  the  galleys  ready.  I have  been  working 
like  a horse  ^t  them  all  the  morning,  as  you  would  let 
me  do  nothing  else.  And  Godenc  will  not  be  back 
from  the  palace,  you  say,  till  nightfall ! ” 

“ If  we  are  attacked  first,  we  are  to  throw  up  a fire- 
signal  to  him,  and  he  is  to  come  off  hither  with  what 
Goths  he  can  muster.  If  the  palace  is  attacked  first, 
he  is  to  give  us  the  signal,  and  we  are  to  pack  up  and 
row  round  thither.  And  in  the  mean  while,  he  is  to 
make  that  hound  of  a Greek  prefect  as  drunk  as  he 
can.” 

“ The  Greek  will  see  him  under  the  table ! He  has 
drugs,  I know,  as  all  these  Roman  rascals  have,  to 
sober  him  when  he  likes ; and  then  he  sets  to  work  and 
drinks  again.  Send  off  old  Smid,  and  let  him  beat  the 
armorer  if  he  can.” 

“A  very  good  thought ! ” said  W ulf,  and  came  out 
instantly  for  the  purpose  of  putting  it  in  practice, 

Pelagia  had  just  time  to  retreat  into  an  adjoining 
doorway;  but  she  had  heard  enough;  and  as  Wulf 
passed,  she  sprang  to  him  and  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

“ Oh,  come  in  hither ! Speak  to  me  one  moment ; 
for  mercy’s  sake  speak  to  me!”  and  she  drew  him, 
half  against  his  will,  into  the  chamber,  and  throwing 
herself  at  his  feet,  broke  out  into  a child-like  wail. 

Wulf  stood  silent,  utterly  discomfited  by  this  unex- 
pected submission,  where  he  had  expected  petulant 
and  artful  resistance.  He  almost  felt  guilty  and 
ashamed,  as  he  looked  down  into  that  beautiful  im- 
ploring face,  convulsed  with  simple  sorrow,  as  of  a 
child  for  a broken  toy.  ...  At  last  she  spoke. 

“Oh,  what  have  I done — what  have  I done?  Why 


586 


IIYPATIA. 


must  you  take  him  from  me  ? What  have  I clone  but 
love  him,  honor  him,  worship  him  ? I know  you  love 
him;  and  I love  you  for  it,.  I do  indeed!  But  you — 
what  is  your  love  to  mine  ? Oh,  I would  die  for  him 
— be  torn  in  pieces  for  him — now,  this  moment!  ”... 
Wulf  was  silent. 

“ What  have  I done  but  love  him  ? What  could  I 
wish  but  to  make  him  happy  ? I was  rich  enough, 
praised,  and  petted;  . . . and  then  he  came  . . . glori- 
ous as  he  is,  like  a god  among  men — among  apes 
rather — and  I worshipped  him . was  I wrong  in  that  ? 
I gave  up  all  for  him . was  I wrong  in  that  ? I gave 
him  myself:  what  could  I do  more  ? He  condescended 
to  like  me — he,  the  hero!  Could  I help  submitting? 
I loved  him . could  I help  loving  him  ? Did  I wrong 
him  m that  ? Cruel,  cruel  Wulf!” 

Wulf  was  forced  to  be  stern,  or  he  would  have 
melted  at  once. 

“And  what  was  your  love  worth  to  him  ? What 
has  it  done  for  him  ? It  has  made  him  a sot,  an  idler, 
a laughing-stock  to  these  Greek  dogs,  when  he  might 
have  been  their  conqueror,  their  king.  Foolish  woman, 
who  cannot  see  that  your  love  has  been  his  bane,  his 
ruin!  He,  who  ought  by  now  to  have  been  sitting 
upon  the  throne  of  the  Ptolemies,  the  lord  of  all  south 
of  the  Mediterranean — as  he  shall  be  still ! ” 

Pelagia  looked  at  him  wide-eyed,  as  if  her  mind  was 
taking  in  slowly  some  vast  new  thought,  under  the 
weight  of  which  it  reeled  already.  Then  she  arose 
slowly. 

“'And  he  might  be  emperor  of  Africa.” 

“And  he  shall  be;  but  not ” 

“Not  with  me!”  she  almost  shrieked.  “No!  not 
with  wretched,  ignorant,  polluted  me ! I see — O God, 
I see  it  all ! And  this  is  why  you  want  him  to  marry 
her — her ” 


HYPATIA. 


587 


She  could  not  utter  the  dreaded  name. 

Wulf  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak;  but  he  bowed 

his  head  in  acquiescence. 

* * * * * 

“ Yes — I will  go — up  into  the  desert — with  Pliilam- 
mon — and  you  shall  never  hear  of  me  again.  And  I 
will  be  a nun,  and  pray  for  him,  that  he  may  be  a 
great  king,  and  conquer  all  the  world.  You  will  tell 
him  why  I went  away,  will  you  not  ? Yes,  I will  go — 
now,  at  once 

She  turned  away  hurriedly,  as  if  to  act  upon  her 
promise,  and  then  she  sprang  again  to  Wulf  with  a 
sudden  shudder. 

“I  cannot,  Wulf!  I cannot  leave  him!  I shall  go 
mad  if  I do!  Do  not  be  angry; — I will  promise  any- 
thing— take  any  oath  you  like,  if  you  will  only  let  me 
stay  here.  Only  as  a slave — as  anything — if  I may 
but  look  at  him  sometimes.  No — not  even  that — but 
to  be  under  the  same  roof  with  him,  only.  Oh,  let  me 
be  but  a slave  in  the  kitchen ! I will  make  over  all  I 
have  to  him — to  you — to  any  one ! And  you  shall  tell 
him  that  I am  gone — dead,  if  you  will.  Only  let  me 
stay!  And  I will  wear  rags,  and  grind  in  the  mill. 
. . . Even  that  will  be  delicious,  to  know  that  he  is 
eating  the  bread  which  I have  made ! And  if  I ever 
dare  speak  to  him — even  to  come  near  him — let  the 
steward  hang  me  up  by  the  wrists,  and  whip  me,  like 
the  slave  which  I deserve  to  be ! . . . And  then  shall 
I soon  grow  old  and  ugly  with  grief,  and  there  will 
be  no  more  danger  then,  dear  Wulf,  will  there,  from 
this  accursed  face  of  mine!  Only  promise  me  that, 

and There!  he  is  calling  you!  Don't  let  him 

come  in  and  see  me ! I cannot  bear  it ! Go  to  him, 
quick,  and  tell  him  all.  No,  don't  tell  him  yet." 

And  she  sank  down  again  on  the  floor,  as  Wulf  went 
out,  murmuring  to  himself — 


588 


HYPATIA. 


“Poor  child!  poor  child!  well  for  thee  this  day  if 
thou  wert  dead,  and  at  the  bottom  of  Hela ! ” 

And  Pelag’ia  heard  what  he  said. 

Gradually,  amid  sobs  and  tears,  and  stormy  confu- 
sion of  impossible  hopes  and  projects,  those  words 
took  root  in  her  mind,  and  spread  till  they  filled  her 
whole  heart  and  brain. 

“ W ell  for  me  if  I were  dead  ? ” 

And  she  rose  slowly. 

“ Well  for  me  if  I were  dead  ? And  why  not  ? Then 
it  would  indeed  be  all  settled.  There  would  be  no 
more  danger  from  poor  little  Pelagia  then.”  . . . 

She  went  slowly,  firmly,  proudly,  into  the  well-known 
chamber.  . . . She  threw  herself  upon  the  bed,  and 
covered  the  pillow  with  kisses.  Her  eye  fell  on  the 
AmaPs  sword,  which  hung  across  the  bed's  head,  after 
the  custom  of  Gothic  warriors.  She  seized  it,  and  took 
it  down,  shuddering. 

“Yes!  . . . Let  it  be  with  this,  if  it  must  be.  And 
it  must  be.  I cannot  bear  it!  Anything  but  shame! 
To  have  fancied  all  my  life — vain  fool  that  I was!  that 
every  one  loved  and  admired  me,  and  to  find  that  they 
were  despising  me,  hating  me  all  along!  Those  stu- 
dents at  the  lecture-room  door  told  me  I was  despised. 
The  old  monk  told  me  so.  Fool  that  I was!  I forgot 
it  next  day!  For  he — he  loved  me  still!  Ah — how 
could  I believe  them,  till  his  own  lips  had  said  it  ? . . . 
Intolerable ! . . . And  yet  women  as  bad  as  I am  have 
been  honored — when  they  were  dead.  What  was  that 
song  which  I used  to  sing  about  Epicharis,  who  hung 
herself  in  the  litter,  and  Leaina,  who  bit  out  her  tongue, 
lest  the  torture  should  drive  them  to  betray  their 
lovers  ? There  used  to  be  a statue  of  Leaina,  they 
say,  at  Athens — a lioness  without  a tongue.  . . . And 
whenever  I sang  the  song,  the  theatre  used  to  rise, 


HYPATIA. 


589 


and  shout,  and  call  them  noble  and  blessed.  ...  I 
never  could  tell  why  then;  but  I know  now!  I know 
now ! Perhaps  they  may  call  me  noble,  after  all.  At 
least,  they  may  say  ‘ She  was  but  a — a — but  she  dare 
die  for  the  man  she  loved ! 9 . . . Ay,  but  God  despises 
me  too,  and  hates  me.  He  will  send  me  to  eternal 
fire.  Philammon  said  so — though  he  was  my  brother. 
The  old  monk  said  so — though  he  wept  as  he  said  it. 
. . . The  flames  of  hell  forever!  Oh,  not  forever! 
Great,  dreadful  God ! not  forever ! Indeed,  I did  not 
know!  No  one  taught  me  about  right  and  wrong, and 
I never  knew  that  I had  been  baptized — indeed,  I 
never  knew ! And  it  was  so  pleasant — so  pleasant  to 
be  happy,  and  praised,  and  loved,  and  to  see  happy 
faces  round  me.  How  could  I help  it  ? The  birds 
there  who  are  singing  in  the  darling,  beloved  court — 
they  do  what  they  like,  and  thou  art  not  angry  with 
them  for  being  happy  ? And  thou  wilt  not  be  more 
cruel  to  me  than  to  them,  great  God — for  what  did  I 
know  more  than  they  ? Thou  hast  made  the  beautiful 
sunshine,  and  the  pleasant,  pleasant  world,  and  the 
flowers,  and  the  birds — Thou  wilt  not  send  me  to  burn 
forever  and  ever?  Will  not  a hundred  years  be  pun- 
ishment enough  — or  a thousand  ? O God ! is  not 
this  punishment  enough  already — to  have  to  leave 
him,  just  as — just  as  I am  beginning  to  long  to  be 
good,  and  to  be  worthy  of  him  ? . . . Oh,  have  mercy 
— mercy — mercy — and  let  me  go  after  I have  been 
punished  enough!  Why  may  I not  turn  into  a bird, 
or  even  a worm,  and  come  back  again  out  of  that 
horrible  place,  to  see  the  sun  shine,  and  the  flowers 
grow  once  more  ? Oh,  am  I not  punishing  myself  al- 
ready ? Will  not  this  help  to  atone  ? . . . Yes — I will 
die ! and  perhaps  so  God  may  pity  me ! 

And  with  trembling  hands  she  drew  the  sword  from 
its  sheath  and  covered  the  blade  with  kisses. 


590 


HYPATIA. 


“ Yes — on  this  sword — -with  which  he  won  his  battles. 
That  is  right — his  to  the  last!  How  keen  and  cold  it 
looks!  Will  it  be  very  painful?  . . . No— I will  not 
try  the  point,  or  my  heart  might  fail  me.  I will  fall 
on  it  at  once;  let  it  hurt  me  as  it  may,  it  will  be  too 
late  to  draw  back  then.  And  after  all  it  is  his  sword. 
It  will  not  have  the  heart  to  torture  me  much.  And 
yet  he  struck  me  himself  this  morning!” 

And  at  that  thought,  a long  wild  cry  of  misery 
broke  from  her  lips,  and  rang  through  the  house. 
Hurriedly  she  fastened  the  sword  upright  to  the  foot 
of  the  bed,  and  tore  open  her  tunic.  . . . “ Here,  under 
this  widowed  bosom,  where  his  head  will  never  lie 
again!  There  are  footsteps  in  the  passage!  Quick, 
Pelagia ! N o w -” 

And  she  threw  up  her  arms  wildly,  in  act  to  fall.  . . . 
“It  is  his  step!  And  he  will  find  me,  and  never 
know  that  it  is  for  him  I die ! ” 

The  Amal  tried  the  door.  It  was  fast.  With  a 
single  blow  he  burst  it  open,  and  demanded — 

“ What  was  that  shriek  ? What  is  the  meaning  of 
this  ? Pelagia ! ” 

Pelagia,  like  a child  caught  playing  with  a forbidden 
toy,  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  cowered  down. 

“ What  is  it  ? ” cried  he,  lifting  her. 

But  she  burst  from  his  arms. 

“No,  no!  nevermore!  I am  not  worthy  of  you! 
Let  me  die,  wretch  that  I am ! I can  only  drag  you 
down.  You  must  be  a king.  You  must  marry  her — 
the  wise  woman ! ” 

“ Hypatia ! She  is  dead ! ” 

“ Dead  ? ” shrieked  Pelagia. 

“Murdered,  an  hour  ago,  by  those  Christian  devils” 
Pelagia  put  her  hands  over  her  eyes,  and  burst  into 


HYPATIA. 


591 

tears.  Were  they  of  pity  or  of  joy?  . . . She  did  not 
ask  herself ; and  we  will  not  ask  her. 

“ Where  is  my  sword  ? Soul  of  Odin ! why  is  it  fast- 
ened here  ? ” 

“ I was  going  to — Do  not  be  angry ! . . . They  told 

me  that  I had  better  die,  and ” 

The  Amal  stood  thunderstruck  for  a moment. 

“ Oh,  do  not  strike  me  again ! Send  me  to  the  mill. 
Kill  me  now  with  your  own  hand ! Anything  but  an- 
other blow ! ” 

“A  blow  ? — noble  woman ! ” cried  the  Amal,  clasping 
her  in  his  arms. 

The  storm  was  past;  and  Pelagia  had  been  nestling 
to  that  beloved  heart,  cooing  like  a happy  dove,  for 
many  a minute  before  the  Amal  aroused  himself  and 

her.  . . . 

“ Now ! quick ! We  have  not  a moment  to  lose.  Up 
to  the  tower,  where  you  will  be  safe;  and  then  to  show 
these  curs  what  comes  of  snarling  round  the  wild 
wolves’  den.” 


592 


HYPATIA. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

NEMESIS. 

And  was  the  Amahs  news  true,  then  ? 

Philammon  saw  Raphael  rush  across  the  street  into 
the  Museum  gardens.  His  last  words  had  been  a com- 
mand to  stay  where  he  was  and  the  boy  obeyed  him. 
The  black  porter  who  let  Raphael  out  told  him,  some- 
what insolently,  that  his  mistress  would  see  no  one 
and  receive  no  messages:  but  he  had  made  up  his 
mind : complained  of  the  sun,  quietly  ensconced  him- 
self behind  a buttress,  and  sat  coiled  up  on  the  pave- 
ment ready  for  a desperate  spring.  The  slave  stared 
at  him;  but  he  was  accustomed  to  the  vagaries  of 
philosophers;  and  thanking  the  gods  that  he  was  not 
born  in  that  station  of  life,  retired  to  his  porter’s  cell 
and  forgot  the  whole  matter. 

There  Philammon  waited  a full  half-hour.  It  seemed 
to  him  hours,  days,  years.  And  yet  Raphael  did  not 
return;  and  yet  no  guards  appeared.  Was  the  strange 
Jew  a traitor?  Impossible!  his  face  had  shown  a 
desperate  earnestness  of  terror  as  intense  as  Pliilam- 
mon’s  own.  ...  Yet  why  did  he  not  return  ? 

Perhaps  he  had  found  out  that  the  streets  were  clear 
— their  mutual  fears  groundless.  . . . What  meant 
that  black  knot  of  men  some  two  hundred  yards  off, 
hanging  about  the  mouth  of  the  side  street,  just  op- 
posite the  door  which  led  to  her  lecture-room  ? He 
moved  to  watch  them:  they  had  vanished.  He  lay 


HYPATIA. 


598 


down  again  and  waited.  . . . There  they  were  again. 
It  was  a suspicious  post.  That  street  ran  along  the 
back  of  the  Caesareum,  a favorite  haunt  of  monks, 
communicating  by  innumerable  entries  and  back  build- 
ings with  the  great  church  itself.  . . . And  yet,  why 
should  there  not  be  a knot  of  monks  there  ? What 
more  common  in  every  street  of  Alexandria  ? He  tried 
to  laugh  away  his  own  fears.  And  yet  they  ripened, 
by  the  very  intensity  of  thinking  on  them,  into  cer- 
tainty. He  knew  that  something  terrible  was  at  hand. 
More  than  once  he  looked  out  from  his  hiding  place- — 
the  knot  of  men  were  still  there;  ...  it  seemed  to 
have  increased,  to  draw  nearer.  If  they  found  him, 
what  would  they  not  suspect  ? What  did  he  care  ? 
He  would  die  for  her  if  it  came  to  that — not  that  it 
would  come  to  that : but  still  he  must  speak  to  her — 
he  must  warn  her.  Passenger  after  passenger,  car- 
riage after  carriage  passed  along  the  street : student 
after  student  entered  the  lecture-room : but  he  never 
saw  them,  not  though  they  passed  him  close.  The  sun 
rose  higher  and  higher,  and  turned  his  whole  blaze 
upon  the  corner  where  Philammon  crouched,  till  the 
pavement  scorched  like  hot  iron,  and  his  eyes  were 
dazzled  by  the  blinding  glare : but  he  never  heeded  it.. 
His  whole  heart,  and  sense,  and  sight  were  riveted 
upon  that  well-known  door,  expecting  it  to  open.  . . . 

At  last,  a curricle,  glittering  with  silver,  rattled 
round  the  corner  and  stopped  opposite  him.  She  must 
be  coming  now.  The  crowd  had  vanished.  Perhaps 
it  was,  after  all,  a fancy  of  his  own.  Ho;  there  they 
were,  peeping  round  the  corner,  close  to  the  lecture- 
room — the  hell-hounds!  A slave  brought  out  an  em- 
broidered cushion— and  then  Hypatia  herself  came 
forth,  looking  more  glorious  than  ever;  her  lips  set  in 
a sad  firm  smile;  her  eyes  uplifted,  inquiring,  eager,, 
38 


594 


HYPATIA. 


and  yet  gentle,  dimmed  by  some  great  inward  awe,  as 
if  her  soul  was  far  away  aloft,  and  face  to  face  with 
God. 

In  a moment  he  sprang  up  to  her,  caught  her  robe 
convulsively,  threw  himself  on  his  knees  before  her — 

“Stop!  Stay!  You  are  going  to  destruction! ” 

Calmly  she  looked  down  upon  him. 

'“Accomplice  of  witches ! W ould  you  make  of  TheoiTs 
daughter  a traitor  like  yourself  ? ” 

He  sprang  up,  stepped  back,  and  stood  stupefied 
with  shame  and  despair.  . . . 

She  believed  him  guilty,  then ! ...  It  was  the  will 
of  God! 

The  plumes  of  the  horses  were  waving  far  down  the 
street  before  he  recovered  himself,  and  rushed  after 
her,  shouting’  he  knew  not  what. 

It  was  too  late ! A dark  wave  of  men  rushed  from 
the  ambuscade,  surged  up  round  the  car  . . . swept 
forward  . . . she  had  disappeared ! and  as  Philammon 
followed  breathless,  the  horses  galloped  past  him 
madly  homeward  with  the  empty  carriage. 

Whither  were  they  dragging  her  ? To  the  Caesareum, 
the  Church  of  God  himself  ? Impossible  ! Why  thither 
of  all  places  of  the  earth  ? Why  did  the  mob,  increas- 
ing momentarily  by  hundreds,  pour  down  upon  the 
beach,  and  return  brandishing  flints,  shells,  fragments 
of  pottery  ? 

She  was  upon  the  church  steps  before  he  caught 
them  up,  invisible  among  the  crowd;  but  he  could 
track  her  by  the  fragments  of  her  dress. 

Where  were  her  gay  pupils  now?  Alas!  they  had 
barricaded  themselves  shamefully  in  the  Museum,  at 
the  first  rush  which  swept  her  from  the  door  of  the 
lecture-room.  Cowards ! he  would  save  her ! 

And  he  struggled  in  vain  to  pierce  the  dense  mass 


With  one  hand  she  clasped  her  golden  locks  about  her. 


HYPATIA. 


597 


of  parabolani  and  monks,  who,  mingled  with  the  fish- 
wives and  dock-workers,  leaped  and  yelled  around 
their  victim.  But  what  he  could  not  do  another  and 
a weaker  did — even  the  little  porter.  Furiously—  no 
one  knew  how  or  whence — he  burst  up,  as  if  from  the 
ground  in  the  thickest  of  the  crowd,  with  knife,  teeth, 
and  nails,  like  a venomous  wild-cat,  tearing  his  way 
toward  his  idol.  Alas!  he  was  torn  down  himself, 
rolled  over  the  steps,  and  lay  there  half  dead  in  an 
agony  of  weeping,  as  Philammon  sprang  up  past  him 
into  the  church. 

Yes.  On  into  the  church  itself!  Into  the  cool  dim 
shadow,  with  its  fretted  pillars,  and  lowering  domes, 
and  candles,  and  incense,  and  blazing  altar,  and  great 
pictures  looking  from  the  walls  athwart  the  gorgeous 
gloom.  And  right  in  front,  above  the  altar,  the  colos- 
sal Christ,  watching  unmoved  from  off  the  wall,  his 
right  hand  raised  to  give  a blessing — or  a curse  ? 

On,  up  the  nave,  fresh  shreds  of  her  dress  strewing 
the  holy  pavement — up  the  chancel  steps  themselves 
— up  to  the  altar — right  underneath  the  great  still 
Christ : and  there  even  those  hell-hounds  paused.  . . . 

She  shook  herself  free  from  her  tormentors,  and 
springing  back,  rose  for  one  moment  to  her  full 
height,  naked,  snow-white  against  the  dusky  mass 
around — shame  and  indignation  in  those  wide  clear 
eyes,  but  not  a stain  of  fear.  With  one  hand  she 
clasped  her  golden  locks  around  her,  the  other  long 
white  arm  was  stretched  upward  toward  the  great 
still  Christ  appealing — and  who  dare  say,  in  vain  ? — 
from  man  to  God.  Her  lips  were  opened  to  speak; 
but  the  words  that  should  have  come  from  them 
reached  God’s  ear  alone ; for  an  instant  Peter  struck 
her  down,  the  dark  mass  closed  over  her  again  . . . 
and  then  wail  on  wail,  long,  wild,  ear-piercing,  rang 


598 


HYPATIA. 


along1  the  vaulted  roofs,  and  thrilled  like  the  trumpet 
of  avenging  angels  through  PhilainmoiTs  ears. 

Crushed  against  a pillar,  unable  to  move  in  the  dense 
mass,  he  pressed  his  hand  over  his  ears.  He  could  not 
shut  out  those  shrieks ! When  would  they  end  ? What 
in  the  name  of  the  God  of  mercy  were  they  doing? 
Tearing  her  piecemeal  ? Yes,  and  worse  than  that. 
And  still  the  shrieks  rang  on,  and  still  the  great  Christ 
looked  down  on  Philammon  with  that  calm,  intolerable 
eye,  and  would  not  turn  away.  And  over  his  head 
was  written  in  the  rainbow,  “ I am  the  same,  yester- 
day, to-day,  and  forever!”  The  same  as  he  was  in 
Judaea  of  old,  Philammon  ? Then  what  are  these,  and 
in  whose  temple  ? And  he  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands,  and  longed  to  die. 

It  was  over.  The  shrieks  had  died  away  into  moans; 
the  moans  to  silence.  How  long  had  he  been  there  ? 
An  hour,  or  an  eternity  ? Thank  God  it  was  over ! 
For  her  sake — but  for  theirs  ? But  they  thought  not 
of  that  as  a new  cry  rose  through  the  dome. 

“ To  the  Cinaron ! Burn  the  bones  to  ashes ! Scatter 
them  into  the  sea ! ” . . . And  the  mob  poured  past 
him  again.  . . . 

He  turned  to  flee : but,  once  outside  the  church,  he 
sank  exhausted,  and  lay  upon  the  steps,  watching  with 
stupid  horror  the  glaring  of  the  fire,  and  the  mob  who 
leaped  and  yelled  like  demons  round  their  Moloch  sac- 
rifice. 

A hand  grasped  his  arm;  he  looked  up;  it  was  the 
porter. 

“And  this,  young  butcher,  is  the  Catholic  and  Apos- 
tolic Church?” 

“No!  Eudasmon,  it  is  the  church  of  the  devils  of 
hell ! ” And  gathering  himself  up,  he  sat  upon  the 
steps  and  buried  his  head  Avithin  his  hands.  He  would 


HYPATIA. 


599 


have  given  life  itself  for  the  power  of  weeping;  but  his 
eyes  and  brain  were  hot  and  dry  as  the  desert. 

Eudgemon  looked  at  him  a while.  The  shock  had 
sobered  the  poor  fop  for  once. 

“I  did  what  I could  to  die  with  her,”  said  he. 

“ I did  what  I could  to  save  her,”  answered  Philam- 
mon. 

“ I know  it.  Forgive  the  words  which  I just  spoke. 
Did  we  not  both  love  her  ? ” 

And  the  little  wretch  sat  down  by  Philammon’s 
side,  and  as  the  blood  dripped  from  his  wounds  upon 
the  pavement,  broke  out  into  a bitter  agony  of  human 
tears. 

There  are  times  when  the  very  intensity  of  our 
misery  is  a boon,  and  kindly  stuns  us  till  we  are  unable 
to  torture  ourselves  by  thought.  And  so  it  was  with 
Philammon  then.  He  sat  there,  he  knew  not  how  long. 

“She  is  with  the  gods,”  said  Eudaemon  at  last. 

“ She  is  with  the  God  of  gods,”  answered  Philam- 
mon; and  they  both  were  silent  again. 

Suddenly  a commanding  voice  aroused  them.  They 
looked  up  and  saw  before  them  Raphael  Aben-Ezra. 

He  was  pale  as  death,  but  calm  as  death.  One 
looked  into  his  face  told  them  that  he  knew  all. 

“Young  monk,”  he  said,  between  his  closed  teeth, 
“you  seem  to  have  loved  her.” 

Philammon  looked  up,  but  could  not  speak. 

“ Then  arise,  and  flee  for  your  life  into  the  farthest 
corner  of  the  desert,  ere  the  doom  of  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah  fall  upon  this  accursed  city.  Have  you 
father,  mother,  brother,  sister — &y,  cat,  dog,  or  bird 
for  which  you  care,  within  its  walls  ? ” 

Philammon  started ; for  he  recollected  Pelagia.  . . . 
That  evening,  so  Cyril  had  promised,  twenty  trusty 
monks  were  to  have  gone  with  him  to  seize  her. 


(500 


HYPATIA. 


“ Y ou  liave  ? Then  take  them  with  you,  and  escape, 
and  remember  Lot's  wife.  Eudaemon,  come  with  me. 
Yon  must  lead  me  to  your  house,  to  the  lodging  of 
Miriam  the  Jewess.  Do  not  deny ! I know  that  she 
is  there.  For  the  sake  of  her  who  is  gone  I will  hold 
you  harmless,  ay,  reward  you  richly,  if  you  prove 
faithful.  Rise ! " 

Eudaemon,  who  knew  Raphael's  face  well,  rose  and 
led  the  way  trembling;  and  Philammon  was  left  alone. 

They  never  met  again.  But  Philammon  knew  that 
he  had  been  in  the  presence  of  a stronger  man  than 
himself,  and  of  one  who  hated  even  more  bitterly  than 
lie  himself  that  deed  at  which  the  very  sun,  it  seemed, 
ought  to  have  veiled  his  face.  And  his  words,  “Arise, 
and  flee  for  thy  life,"  uttered  as  they  were  with  the 
stern  self-command  and  writhing  lip  of  compressed 
agony,  rang  through  his  ears  like  the  trump  of  doom. 
Yes,  he  would  flee.  He  had  gone  forth  to  see  the 
world,  and  he  had  seen  it.  Arsenius  was  in  the  right 
after  all.  Home  to  the  desert ! But  first  he  would 
go  himself,  alone,  to  Pelagia,  and  implore  her  once 
more  to  flee  with  him.  Beast,  fool,  that  he  had  been, 
to  try  to  win  her  by  force — by  the  help  of  such  as 
these ! God's  kingdom  was  not  a kingdom  of  fanatics 
yelling  for  a doctrine,  but  of  willing,  loving  obedient 
hearts.  If  he  could  not  win  her  heart,  her  will,  he 
would  go  alone,  and  die  praying  for  her. 

He  sprang  from  the  steps  of  the  Ceesareum,  and 
turned  up  the  street  of  the  Museum.  Alas!  it  was 
one  roaring  sea  of  heads!  They  were  sacking  Theon's 
house — the  house  of  so  many  memories!  Perhaps  the 
poor  old  man,  too,  had  perished ! Still — his  sister!  He 
must  save  her  and  flee.  And  he  turned  up  a side  street 
and  tried  to  make  his  way  onward. 

Alas,  again ! the  whole  of  the  dock-quarter  was  up 


HYPATIA. 


601 


and  out.  Every  street  poured  its  tide  of  furious  fana- 
tics into  the  main  river:  and  ere  he  could  reach  Pela- 
gia’s house  the  sun  was  set,  and  close  behind  him, 
echoed  by  ten  thousand  voices,  was  the  cry  of  “ Down 
with  all  heathens ! Root  out  all  Arian  Goths ! Down 
with  idolatrous  wantons!  Down  with  Pelagia  Aphro- 
dite!” 

He  hurried  down  the  alley,  to  the  tower  door,  where 
Wulf  had  promised  to  meet  him.  It  was  half  open, 
and  in  the  dusk  he  could  see  a figure  standing  in  the 
doorway.  He  sprang  up  the  steps  and  found,  not 
Wulf,  but  Miriam. 

“ Let  me  pass  ! ” 

“ Wherefore  ? ” 

He  made  no  answer,  and  tried  to  push  past  her. 

“Fool,  fool,  fool!”  whispered  the  hag,  holding  the 
door  against  him  with  all  her  strength.  “ Where  are 
your  fellow-kidnappers  ? Where  are  your  band  of 
monks  ? ” 

Philammon  started  back.  How  had  she  discovered 
his  plan  ? 

“Ay — where  are  they  ? Besotted  boy ! Have  you 
not  seen  enough  of  mockery  this  afternoon,  that  you 
must  try  still  to  make  that  poor  girl  even  such  a one 
as  yourselves  ? Ay,  you  may  root  out  your  own  hu- 
man natures  if  you  will,  and  make  yourselves  devils 
in  trying  to  become  angels;  but  woman  she  is,  and 
woman  she  shall  live  or  die ! ” 

“Let  me  pass!  ” cried  Philammon,  furiously. 

“ Raise  your  voice — and  I raise  mine : and  then  your 
life  is  not  worth  a moment’s  purchase.  Fool,  do  you 
think  I speak  as  a Jewess  ? I speak  as  a woman — ns 
a nun!  I was  a nun  once,  madman — the  iron  entered 
into  my  soul!  God  do  so  to  me,  and  more  also,  if  it 
ever  enter  into  another  soul  while  I can  prevent  it! 


602 


HYPATIA. 


\ou  shall  not  have  her!  I will  strangle  her  with  my 
own  hand  first ! ” And  turning  from  him  she  darted 
up  the  winding  stair. 

He  followed ! but  the  intense  passion  of  the  old  hag- 
hurled  her  onward  with  the  strength  and  speed  of  a 
young  Mamad.  Once  Pliilammon  was  near  passing 
her.  But  he  recollected  that  he  did  not  know  his  way, 
and  contented  himself  with  keeping  close  behind,  and 
making  the  fugitive  his  guide. 

Stair  after  stair,  he  fled  upward,  till  she  turned 
suddenly  into  a chamber  door.  Pliilammon  paused. 
A few  feet  above  him  the  open  sky  showed  at  the  stair- 
head. They  were  close,  then,  to  the  roof!  One  mo- 
ment more,  and  the  hag  darted  out  of  the  room  again 
and  turned  to  flee  upward  still.  Pliilammon  caught 
her  by  the  arm,  hurled  her  back  into  the  empty  cham- 
ber, shut  the  door  upon  her,  and  with  a few  bounds 
gained  the  roof  and  met  Pelagia  face  to  face. 

“Come!”  gasped  he  breathlessly.  “Now  is  the 
moment!  Come,  while  they  are  all  below!”  and  he 
seized  her  hand. 

But  Pelagia  only  recoiled. 

“No,  no,”  whispered  she  in  answer,  “I  cannot,  can- 
not— he  has  forgiven  me  all,  all!  and  I am  his  forever! 
And  now,  just  as  he  is  in  danger,  when  he  may  be 
wounded — all,  heaven!  would  you  have  me  do  any- 
thing so  base  as  to  desert  him  ? ” 

“Pelagia,  Pelagia,  darling  sister!”  cried  Philani- 
mon,  in  an  agonized  voice,  “ think  of  the  doom  of  sin ! 
Think  of  the  pains  of  hell ! ” 

“I  have  thought  of  them  this  day;  and  I do  not  be- 
lieve you!  No — I do  not!  God  is  not  so  cruel  as  you 
say.  And  if  He  were: — to  lose  my  love,  that  is  hell! 
Let  me  burn  hereafter,  if  I do  but  keep  him  now!  ” 
Pliilammon  stood  stupefied  and  shuddering.  All 


HYPATIA. 


603 


his  own  early  doubts  flashed  across  him  like  a thunder- 
bolt, when  in  the  temple  cave  he  had  seen  those  painted 
ladies  at  their  revels,  and  shuddered,  and  asked  him- 
self, were  they  burning-  forever  and  ever  ? 

“Come!”  g-asped  he  once  ag-ain;  and  throwing  him- 
self on  his  knees  before  her,  covered  her  hands  with 
kisses,  wildly  entreating;  but  in  vain. 

“What  is  this?”  thundered  a voice;  not  Miriam's 
but  the  Amal's.  He  was  unarmed:  but  he  rushed 
straight  upon  Philammon. 

“ Do  not  harm  him ! ” shrieked  Pelagia ; “ he  is  my 
brother — my  brother  of  whom  I told  you ! ” 

“ What  does  he  here  ? ” cried  the  Amal,  who  in- 
stantly divined  the  truth. 

Pelagia  was  silent. 

“I  wish  to  deliver  my  sister,  a Christian,  from  the 
sinful  embraces  of  an  Arian  heretic;  and  deliver  her  I 
will  or  die ! ” 

“ An  Arian  ? ” laughed  the  Amal.  “ Say  a heathen 
at  once,  and  tell  the  truth,  young  fool!  Will  you  go 
with  him,  Pelagia,  and  turn  nun  in  the  sand-heaps  ? ” 

Pelagia  sprang  toward  her  lover;  Philammon  caught 
her  by  the  arm  for  one  last  despairing  appeal : and  in 
a moment,  neither  knew  how,  the  Goth  and  the  Greek 
were  locked  in  deadly  struggle,  while  Pelagia  stood  in 
silent  horror,  knowing  that  a call  for  help  would  bring 
instant  death  to  her  brother. 

It  was  over  in  a few  seconds.  The  Goth  lifted 
Philammon  like  a baby  in  his  arms,  and  bearing  him 
to  the  parapet  attempted  to  hurl  him  into  the  canal 
below.  But  the  active  Greek  had  wound  himself  like 
a snake  arounddiim,  and  held  him  by  the  throat  with 
the  strength  of  despair.  Twice  they  rolled  and  tottered 
on  the  parapet;  and  twice  recoiled.  A third  fearful 
lunge — the  earthen  wall  gave  way;  and  down  to  the 


604 


HYPATIA. 


dark  depths,  locked  in  each  other’s  arms,  fell  Goth 
and  Greek. 

Pelagia  rushed  to  the  brink,  and  gazed  downward 
into  the  gloom,  dumb  and  dry-eyed  with  horror.  Twice 
they  turned  over  together  in  mid-air.  . . . The  foot  of 
the  tower,  as  was  usual  in  Egypt,  sloped  outward 
toward  the  water.  They  must  strike  upon  that — and 
then ! ...  It  seemed  an  eternity  ere  they  touched  the 


Five  minutes  afterward,  Philammon,  dripping, 
bruised,  and  bleeding,  was  crawling  up  the  water- 
steps  at  the  lower  end  of  the  lane.  A woman  rushed 
from  the  postern  door,  and  stood  on  the  quay  edge, 
gazing  with  clasped  hands  into  the  canal.  The  moon 
fell  full  on  her  face.  It  was  Pelagia.  She  saw  him, 
knew  him,  and  recoiled. 

“ Sister ! my  sister ! Forgive  me ! ” 

“ Murderer!”  she  shrieked,  and  dashing  aside  his 
outspread  hands,  fled  wildly  up  the  passage. 


masonry.  . . . TlieAmalwas 
undermost.  . . . She  saw  his 
fair  floating  locks  dash 
against  the  cruel  stone.  His 
grasp  suddenly  loosened. 
His  limbs  collapsed : two  dis- 
tinct plunges  broke  the  dark, 
sullen  water;  and  then  all  was 
still  but  the  awakened  ripple, 
lapping  angrily  against  the 
wall. 


w 

Pelagia  rushed  to  the  brink. 


Pelagia  gazed  down  one  mo- 
ment more,  and  then,  with  a 
shriek  which  rang  along  roof 
and  river,  she  turned  and  fled 
down  the  stairs  and  out  into 
the  night. 


HYPATIA. 


605 


The  way  was  blocked  with  bales  of  merchandise: 
but  the  dancer  bounded  over  them  like  a deer;  while 
Philammon,  half  stunned  by  his  fall  and  blinded  by 
his  dripping-  locks,  stumbled,  fell,  and  lay,  unable  to 
rise.  She  held  on  foe  a few  yards  toward  the  torch-lit 
mob,  which  was  surging-  and  roaring-  in  the  main 
street  above,  then  turned  suddenly  into  a side  alley, 
and  vanished;  while  Philammon  lay  groaning-  upon 
the  pavement,  without  a purpose  or  a hope  upon  earth. 

Five  minutes  more,  and  Wulf  was  gazing  over  the 
broken  parapet,  at  the  head  of  twenty  terrified  specta- 
tors, male  and  female,  whom  Pelagia’s  shriek  had 
summoned. 

He  alone  suspected  that  Philammon  had  been  there; 
and  shuddering  at  the  thought  of  what  might  have 
happened,  he  kept  his  secret. 

But  all  knew  that  Pelagia  had  been  on  the  tower; 
all  had  seen  Amal  go  up  thither.  Where  were  they 
now  ? And  why  was  the  little  postern  gate  found 
open,  and  shut  only  just  in,  time  to  prevent  the  en- 
trance of  the  mob  ? 

Wulf  stood,  revolving  in  a brain  but  too  well  prac- 
tised in  such  cases,  all  possible  contingencies  of  death 
and  horror.  At  last — 

“A  rope  and  a light,  Smid,”  he  almost  whispered. 

They  were  brought,  and  Wulf,  resisting  all  the  en- 
treaties of  the  younger  men  to  allow  them  to  go  on 
the  perilous  search,  lowered  himself  through  the 
breach. 

He  was  about  two-thirds  down,  when  he  shook  the 
rope,  and  called  in  a stifled  voice  to  those  above — 

“ Haul  up.  I have  seen  enough.” 

Breathless  with  curiosity  and  fear,  they  hauled  him 
up.  He  stood  among  them  for  a few  moments,  silent, 
as  if  stunned  by  the  weight  of  some  enormous  woe. 


606 


HYPATIA. 


" Is  he  dead  ? " 

" Odin  has  taken  his  son  home,  wolves  of  the  Goths ! 99 
And  he  held  out  his  right  hand  to  the  awestruck  ring, 
and  burst  into  an  agony  of  weeping.  ...  A clotted 
tress  of  long  fair  hair  lay  on  his  palm. 

It  was  snatched;  handed  from  man  to  man.  . . . 
One  after  another  recognized  the  beloved  golden  locks. 
And  then,  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  the  girls  who 
stood  round,  the  great  simple  hearts,  too  brave  to  he 
ashamed  of  tears,  broke  out,  and  wailed  like  children. 
. . . Their  Amal!  Their  heavenly  man!  Odin's  own 
son,  their  joy,  and  pride,  and  glory!  Their  "Kingdom 
of  heaven,"  as  his  name  declared  him,  who  was  all 
that  each  wished  to  he,  and  more,  and  yet  belonged  to 
them,  bone  of  their  bone,  flesh  of  their  flesh ! Ah,  it  is 
bitter  to  all  true  human  hearts  to  be  robbed  of  their 
ideal,  even  though  that  ideal  be  that  of  a mere  wild 
bull,  and  soulless  gladiator.  . . . 

At  last  Smid  spoke — 

" Heroes,  this  is  Odin's  doom ; and  the  All-father  is 
just.  Had  we  listened  to  Prince  Wulf  four  months 
ago,  this  had  never  been.  We  have  been  cowards  and 
sluggards,  and  Odin  is  angr}r  with  his  children.  Let 
us  swear  to  be  Prince  Wulf's  men,  and  follow  him  to- 
morrow where  he  will ! " 

Wulf  grasped  his  outstretched  hand  lovingly — 

"No,  Smid,  son  of  Troll!  These  words  are  not  yours 
to  speak.  Agilmund  son  of  Cniva,  Goderic  son  of 
Ermenric,  you  are  Balts,  and  to  you  the  succession 
appertains.  Draw  lots  here,  which  of  you  shall  be  our 
chieftain." 

"No!  no!  Wulf!"  cried  both  the  youths  at  once. 
"You  are  the  hero!  you  are  the  Sagaman!  We  are 
not  worthy : we  have  been  cowards  and  sluggards,  like 
the  rest.  Wolves  of  the  Goths,  follow  the  Wolf,  even 
though  he  lead  you  to  the  land  of  the  giants ! " 


HYPATIA. 


607 


A roar  of  applause  followed. 

“ Lift  him  on  the  shield/*  cried  Goderic,  tearing  off 
his  buckler.  “Lift  him  on  the  shield!  Hail,  Wulf 
king!  Wulf,  king  of  Egypt!** 

And  the  rest  of  the  Goths,  attracted  by  the  noise, 
rushed  up  the  tower  stairs  in  time  to  join  in  the  mighty 
shout  of  “ W ulf,  king  of  Egypt ! **  as  careless  of  the 
vast  multitude  which  yelled  and  surged  without,  as 
boys  are  of  the  snow  against  the  window-pane. 

“No,**  said  Wulf,  solemnly,  as  he  stood  on  the  up- 
lifted shield.  “If  I be  indeed  your  king,  and  ye  my 
men,  wolves  of  the  Goths,  to-morrow  we  will  go  forth 
of  this  place,  hated  of  Odin,  rank  with  the  innocent 
blood  of  the  Alruna  maid.  Back  to  Adolf;  back  to 
our  own  people ! will  you  go  ? ** 

“Back  to  Adolf!**  shouted  the  men. 

“You  will  not  leave  us  to  be  murdered  ? **  cried  one 
of  the  girls.  “The  mob  are  breaking  the  gates  al- 
ready ! *’ 

“Silence,  silly  one!  Men — we  have  one  thing  to  do. 
The  Amal  must  not  go  to  the  Valhalla  without  fair 
attendance.** 

“Not  the  poor  girls?**  said  Agilmund,  who  took  for 
granted  that  Wulf  would  wish  to  celebrate  the  Amahs 
funeral  in  true  Gothic  fashion  by  a slaughter  of  slaves. 

“No.  . . . One  of  them  I saw  behave  this  very  after- 
noon worthy  of  a Vala.  And  they,  too — they  may 
make  heroes*  wives  after  all,  yet.  . . . Women  are 
better  than  I fancied,  even  the  worst  of  them.  No. 
Go  down,  heroes,  and  throw  the  gates  open ; — and  call 
in  the  Greek  hounds  to  the  funeral  supper  of  a son  of 
Odin.** 

“ Throw  the  gates  open  ? ** 

“Yes.  Goderic,  take  a dozen  men,  and  be  ready  in 
the  east  hall.  Agilmund,  go  with  a dozen  to  the  west 


608 


HYPATIA. 


side  of  the  court — there  in  the  kitchen,  and  wait  till 
you  hear  my  war-cry.  Smid  and  the  rest  of  you,  come 
with  me  through  the  stables  close  to  the  gates — as 
silent  as  Hela.” 

And  they  went  down — to  meet,  full  on  the  stairs 
below,  old  Miriam. 

Breathless  and  exhausted  by  her  exertion,  she  had 
fallen  heavily  before  Philammon's  strong  arm;  and 
lying  half  stunned  for  awhile,  recovered  just  in  time  to 
meet  her  doom. 

She  knew  that  it  was  come,  and  faced  it  like  herself. 

“ Take  the  witch ! ” said  W ulf,  slowly — “ Take  the 
corruptor  of  heroes — the  cause  of  all  our  sorrows!” 

Miriam  looked  at  him  with  a quiet  smile. 

“ The  witch  is  accustomed  long  ago  to  hear  fools  lay 
on  her  the  consequences  of  their  own  lust  and  laziness.” 

“ Hew  her  down,  Smid,  son  of  Troll,  that  she  may 
pass  the  Amahs  soul  and  gladden  it  on  her  way  to 
Niflheim.” 

Smid  did  it:  but  so  terrible  were  the  eyes  which 
glared  upon  him  from  those  sunken  sockets,  that  his 
sight  was  dazzled.  The  axe  turned  aside,  and  struck 
her  shoulder.  She  reeled,  but  did  not  fall. 

“ It  is  enough,”  she  said  quietly. 

“ The  accursed  Grendel’s  daughter  numbed  my 
arm!”  said  Smid.  “Let  her  go!  No  man  shall  say 
that  I struck  a woman  twice.” 

“Nidhogg  waits  for  her,  soon  or  late,”  answered 
W ulf. 

And  Miriam,  coolly  folding  her  shawl  around  her, 
turned  and  walked  steadily  down  the  stair;  while  all 
men  breathed  more  freely,  as  if  delivered  from  some 
accursed  and  supernatural  spell. 

“And  now,”  said  Wulf,  “to  your  posts,  and  ven- 


geance ! 


HYPATIA. 


609 


The  mob  had  weltered  and  howled  ineffectually 
around  the  house  for  some  half-hour.  But  the  lofty 
walls,  opening  on  the  street  only  by  a few  narrow 
windows  in  the  higher  stories,  rendered  it  an  impreg- 
nable fortress.  Suddenly,  the  iron  gates  were  drawn 
back,  disclosing  to  the  front  rank  the  court,  glaring 
empty  and  silent  and  ghastly  in  the  moonlight.  For 
an  instant  they  recoiled,  with  a vague  horror  and 
dread  of  treachery;  but  the  mass  behind  pressed  them 
onward,  and  in  swept  the  murderers  of  Hypatia,  till 
the  court  was  full  of  choking  wretches  surging  against 
the  walls  and  pillars  in  aimless  fury.  And  then  from 
under  the  archway  on  each  side,  rushed  a body  of  tall 
armed  men,  driving  back  all  incomers  more;  the  gates 
slid  together  again  upon  their  grooves;  and  the  wild 
beasts  of  Alexandria  were  trapped  at  last. 

And  then  began  a murder  grim  and  great.  From 
three  different  doors  issued  a line  of  Goths,  whose 
helmets  and  mail-shirts  made  them  invulnerable  to 
the  clumsy  weapons  of  the  mob,  and  began  hewing 
their  way  right  through  the  living  mass,  helpless  from 
their  close-packed  array.  True,  they  were  but  as  one 
to  ten;  but  what  are  ten  curs  before  one  lion  ? . . . 
And  the  moon  rose  higher  and  higher,  staring  down 
ghastly  and  unmoved  upon  the  doomed  court  of  the 
furies,  and  still  the  bills  and  swords  hewed  on  and  on, 
and  the  Goths  drew  the  corpses,  as  they  found  room, 
toward  a dark  pile  in  the  midst,  where  old  Wulf  sat 
upon  a heap  of  slain,  singing  the  praises  of  the  Amal 
and  the  glories  of  Valhalla,  while  the  shrieks  of  his 
lute  rose  shrill  over  the  shrieks  of  the  flying  and  the 
wounded,  and  its  wild  waltz-time  danced  and  rollicked 
on,  swifter  and  swifter,  as  the  old  singer  maddened,  in 
awful  mockery  of  the  terror  and  agony  around. 

And  so,  by  men  and  purposes  which  recked  not  of 
39 


610 


HYPATIA. 


her,  as  is  the  wont  of  Providence,  was  the  blood  of 
Hypatia  avenged  in  part  that  night. 

In  part  only.  For  Peter  the  Reader,  and  his  especial 
associates,  were  safe  in  sanctuary  at  the  Cassareum, 
clinging  to  the  altar.  Terrified  at  the  storm  which 
they  had  raised,  and  fearing  the  consequence  of  an 
attack  upon  the  palace,  they  had  left  the  mob  to  run 
riot  at  its  will ; and  escaped  the  swords  of  the  Goths, 
to  be  reserved  for  the  more  awful  punishment  of  im- 
punity. 


HYPATIA. 


611 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

EVERY  MAN  TO  HIS  OWN  PLACE. 

It  was  near  midnight.  Raphael  had  been  sitting 
some  three  hours  in  MirianTs  inner  chamber,  waiting 
in  vain  for  her  return.  To  recover,  if  possible,  his  an- 
cestral wealth;  to  convey  it,  without  a day's  delay,  to 
Cyrene;  and  if  possible,  to  persuade  the  poor  old  Jew- 
ess to  accompany  him,  and  there  to  soothe,  to  guide, 
perhaps  to  convert  her,  was  his  next  purpose : — at  all 
events,  with  or  without  his  wealth,  to  flee  from  that 
accursed  city.  And  he  counted  impatiently  the  slow 
hours  and  minutes  which  detained  him  in  an  atmo- 
sphere which  seemed  reeking  with  innocent  blood,  black 
with  the  lowering  curse  of  an  avenging  God.  -More 
than  once,  unable  to  bear  the  thought,  he  rose  to  de- 
part and  leave  his  wealth  behind;  but  he  was  checked 
again  by  the  thought  of  his  own  past  life.  How  had 
he  added  his  own  sin  to  the  great  heap  of  Alexandrian 
wickedness  ? How  had  he  tempted  others,  pampered 
others  in  evil  ? Good  God ! how  had  he  not  only  done 
evil  with  all  his  might,  hut  had  pleasure  in  those  who 
did  the  same  ? And  now,  now  he  was  reaping  the  fruit 
of  his  own  devices.  For  years  past,  merely  to  please 
his  lust  of  power,  his  misanthropic  scorn,  he  had  been 
making  that  wicked  Orestes  wickeder  than  he  was 
even  by  his  own  base  will  and  nature ; and  his  puppet 
had  avenged  itself  upon  him ! He,  he  had  prompted 
him  to  ask  Hypatia's  hand.  . . . He  had  laid,  half  in 


612 


HYPATIA. 


sport,  half  in  envy  of  her  excellence,  that  foul  plot 
against  the  only  human  being  whom  he  loved  . . . 
and  he  had  destroyed  her.  He,  and  not  Peter,  was  the 
murderer  of  Hypatia.  True,  he  had  never  meant  her 
death.  . . . No;  but  had  he  not  meant  for  her  worse 
than  death?  He  had  never  foreseen.  . . . No;  blit 
only  because  he  did  not  choose  to  foresee.  He  had 
chosen  to  be  a g'od;  to  kill  and  to  make  alive  by  his 
own  will  and  law:  and  behold,  he  had  become  a devil 
by  that  very  act.  Who  can — and  who  dare,  even  if 
he  could — withdraw  the  sacred  veil  from  those  bitter 
agonies  of  inward  shame  and  self-reproach,  made  all 
the  more  intense  by  his  clear  and  undoubting  knowl- 
edge that  he  was  forgiven  ? What  dread  of  punish- 
ment, what  blank  despair,  could  have  pierced  that 
great  heart  so  deeply  as  did  the  thought  that  the  God 
whom  he  had  hated  and  defied  had  returned  him  good 
for  evil,  and  rewarded  him  not  according  to  his  in- 
iquities ? That  discovery,  as  Ezekiel  of  old  had  warned 
his  forefathers,  filled  up  the  cup  of  his  self-loathing. 
. . . To  have  found  at  last  the  hated  and  dreaded 
name  of  God;  and  found  that  it  was  Love!  ...  To 
possess  Victoria,  a living,  human  likeness,  however 
imperfect,  of  that  God ; and  to  possess  in  her  a home, 
a duty,  a purpose,  a fresh  clear  life  of  righteous  labor, 
perhaps  of  final  victory.  . . . That  was  his  punish- 
ment; that  w^is  the  brand  of  Cain  upon  his  forehead: 
and  he  felt  it  greater  than  he  could  bear. 

But  at  least  there  was  one  thing  to  be  done.  Where 
he  had  sinned,  there  he  must  make  amends;  not  as  a 
propitiation,  not  even  as  a restitution : but  simply  as 
a confession  of  the  truth  which  he  had  found.  And  as 
his  purpose  shaped  itself,  he  longed  and  prayed  that 
Miriam  might  return,  and  make  it  possible. 

And  Miriam  did  return.  He  heard  her  pass  slowly 


HYPATIA. 


613 


through  the  outer  room,  learn  from  the  girls  who  was 
within,  order  them  out  of  the  apartments,  close  the 
outer  door  upon  them:  at  last  she  entered,  and  said 
quietly — 

"Welcome!  I have  expected  you.  You  could  not 
surprise  old  Miriam.  The  teraph  told  me,  last  night, 
that  you  would  be  here."  . . . 

Did  she  see  the  smile  of  incredulity  upon  Raphael's 
face,  or  was  it  some  sudden  pang  of  conscience  which 
made  her  cry  out — 

"...  No!  I did  not!  I never  expected  you!  I 
am  a liar,  a miserable  old  liar,  who  cannot  speak  the 
truth,  even  if  I try ! Only  look  kind ! Smile  at  me, 
Raphael ! Raphael  come  back  at  last  to  his  poor,  mis- 
erable, villainous  old  mother!  Smile  on  me  but  once, 
my  beautiful,  my  son ! my  son ! ” 

And  springing  to  him,  she  clasped  him  in  her  arms. 

"Your  son  ?” 

"Yes,  my  son!  Safe  at  last!  Mine  at  last!  lean 
prove  it  now ! The  son  of  my  womb,  though  not  the 
son  of  my  vows ! " and  she  laughed  hysterically.  " My 
child,  my  heir,  for  whom  I have  toiled  and  hoarded  for 
three-and  thirty  years!  Quick!  here  are  my  keys. 
In  that  cabinet  are  all  my  papers — all  I have  is  yours. 
Your  jewels  are  safe — buried  with  mine.  The  negro- 
woman,  Eudsemon's  wife,  knows  where.  I made  her 
swear  secrecy  upon  her  little  wooden  idol,  and,  Chris- 
tian as  she  is,  she  has  been  honest.  Make  her  rich  for 
life.  She  hid  your  poor  old  mother,  and  kept  her  safe 
to  see  her  boy  come  home.  But  give  nothing  to  her 
little  husband : he  is  a bad  fellow,  and  beats  her.  Go, 
quick!  take  your  riches,  and  away!  . . . No:  stay  one 
moment— just  one  little  moment — that  the  poor  old 
wretch  may  feast  her  eyes  with  the  sight  of  her  darling 
once  more  before  she  dies ! ” 


614 


HYPATIA. 


“ Before  you  die?  Your  son?  God  of  my  fathers, 
what  is  the  meaning*  of  all  this,  Miriam  ? This  morn- 
ing I was  the  son  of  Ezra,  the  merchant  of  Antioch!” 
“His  son  and  heir,  his  son  and  heir!  He  knew  all 
at  last.  We  told  him  on  his  death-bed!  I swear  that 
we  told  him,  and  he  adopted  you ! ” 

“We!  Who?” 

“His  wife  and  I.  He  craved  for  a child,  the  old 
miser,  and  we  gave  him  one — a better  one  than  ever 
came  of  his  family.  But  he  loved  you,  accepted  you, 
though  he  did  know  all.  He  was  afraid  of  being 
laughed  at  after  he  was  dead — afraid  of  having  it 
known  that  he  was  childless,  the  old  dotard!  No— he 
was  right — true  Jew  in  that  after  all! ” 

“ Who  was  my  father,  then  ?”  interrupted  Raphael, 
in  utter  bewilderment. 

The  old  woman  laughed  a laugh  so  long  and  wild, 
that  Raphael  shuddered. 

“Sit  down  at  your  mother’s  feet.  Sit  down  . . . 
just  to  please  the  poor  old  thing!  Even  if  you  do  not 
believe  her,  just  play  at  being  her  child,  her  darling, 
for  a minute  before  she  dies;  and  she  will  tell  you  all 
. . . perhaps  there  is  time  yet ! ” 

And  he  sat  down.  . . . “ What  if  this  incarnation  of 
all  wickedness  were  really  my  mother  ? . . . And  yet 
— why  should  I shrink  thus  proudly  from  the  notion  ? 
Am  I so  pure  myself  as  to  deserve  a purer  source  ? ” . . . 
And  the  old  woman  laid  her  hand  fondly  on  his  head, 
and  her  skinny  fingers  played  with  his  soft  locks,  as 
she  spoke  hurriedly  and  thick. 

“ Of  the  house  of  Jesse,  of  the  seed  of  Solomon ; not 
a rabbi  from  Babylon  to  Rome  dare  deny  that ! A 
king’s  daughter  I am,  and  a king’s  heart  I had,  and 
have,  like  Solomon’s  own,  my  son ! ....  A kingly  heart. 

. . . It  made  me  dread  and  scorn  to  be  a slave,  a play- 


HYPATIA. 


615 


“ She  will  tell  you  all  . . . perhaps  there  is  yet  time.” 

gave  me  more.  . . . They  pampered  my  woman’s  vanity,, 
my  pride,  my  self-will,  my  scorn  of  wedded  bondage,  and 
bade  me  be  a saint,  the  judge  of  angels  and  archangels, 
the  bride  of  God ! Liars ! liars ! And  so — if  you  laugh, 
you  kill  me,  Raphael — and  so  Miriam,  the  daughter  of 
Jonathan — Miriam,  of  the  house  of  David — Miriam, 
the  descendant  of  Ruth  and  Rachab,  of  Rachel  and 
Sara,  became  a Christian  nun,  and  shut  herself  up  to 


thing,  a soulless  doll,  such  as  Jewish  women  are  con- 
demned to  be  by  their  tyrants,  the  men.  I craved  for 
wisdom,  renown,  power — power — power!  and  my  na- 
tion refused  them  to  me;  because,  forsooth,  I was  a 
woman!  So  I left  them!  I went  to  the  Christian 
priests.  . . . They  gave  me  what  I asked.  . . . They 


616 


HYPATIA. 


see  visions,  and  dream  dreams,  and  fattened  her  own 
self-conceit  upon  the  impious  fancy  that  she  was  the 
spouse  of  the  Nazarene,  Joshua  Bar  Joseph,  whom 
she  called  Jehovah  Ishi — Silence!  If  you  stop  me  a 
moment,  it  may  he  too  late.  I hear  them  calling  me 
already,  and  I made  them  promise  not  to  take  me 
before  I had  told  all  to  my  son — the  son  of  my  shame!  ” 

"Who  calls  you?”  asked  Raphael;  hut  after  one 
strong  shudder  she  ran  on,  unheeding — 

" But  the}7  lied,  lied,  lied ! I found  them  out  that  day. 
. . . Do  not  look  up  at  me,  and  I will  tell  you  all.  There 
was  a riot — a fight  between  the  Christian  devils  and 
the  heathen  devils — and  the  convent  was  sacked, 
Raphael,  my  son!  Sacked!  . . . Then  I found  out 
their  blasphemy.  . . . O God!  I shrieked  to  Him, 
Raphael!  I called  on  Him  to  rend  his  heavens  and 
come  down — to  pour  out  His  thunderbolts  upon  them 
■ — to  cleave  the  earth  and  devour  them — to  save  the 
wretched  helpless  girl  who  adored  Him,  who  had  given 
up  father,  mother,  kinsfolk,  wealth,  the  light  of  heaven, 
womanhood  itself  for  Him — who  worshipped,  medi- 
tated over  Him,  dreamed  of  Him  night  and  day.  . . . 
And,  Raphael,  He  did  not  hear  me.  . . . He  did  not 
hear  me  . . . did  not  hear  me!  . . . And  then  I knew 
it  all  for  a lie!  a lie!  ” 

"And  you  know  it  for  what  it  is!”  cried  Raphael 
through  his  sobs,  as  he  thought  of  Victoria,  and  felt 
every  vein  burning  with  righteous  wrath. 

" There  was  no  mistaking  that  test,  was  there  ? . . . 
For  nine  months  I was  mad.  And  then  your  voice, 
my  baby,  my  joy,  my  pride — that  brought  me  to  my- 
self once  more ! And  I shook  off  the  dust  of  my  feet 
against  those  Galilean  priests,  and  went  back  to  my 
own  nation,  where  God  had  set  me  from  the  beginning. 
I made  them — the  rabbis,  my  father,  my  kin — I made 


HYPATIA. 


617 


them  all  receive  me.  They  could  not  stand  before  my 
eye.  I can  make  people  do  what  I will,  Raphael!  I 
could— I could  make  you  emperor  now,  if  I had  hut 
time  left ! I went  hack.  I palmed  you  off  on  Ezra  as 
his  son,  I and  his  wife,  and  made  him  believe  that  you 
had  been  horn  to  him  while  he  was  in  Byzantium.  . . . 
And  then,  to  live  for  you!  And  I did  live  for  you.  For 
you  I travelled  from  India  to  Britain,  seeking-  wealth. 
For  you  I toiled,  hoarded,  lied,  intrigued,  won  money 
by  every  means,  no  matter  how  base — for  was  it  not 
for  you ? And  I have  conquered!  You  are  the  richest 
Jew  south  of  the  Mediterranean,  you,  my  son!  And 
you  deserve  your  wealth.  You  have  your  mother's 
soul  in  you,  my  boy!  I watched  you,  gloried  in  you— 
in  your  cunning,  your  daring,  your  learning,  your  con- 
tempt for  these  Gentile  hounds.  You  felt  the  royal 
blood  of  Solomon  within  you!  You  felt  that  you  were 
a young  lion  of  Judah,  and  they  the  jackals  who  fol- 
lowed to  feed  upon  your  leavings!  And  now,  now! 
Your  only  danger  is  past.  The  cunning  woman  is 
gone — the  sorceress  who  tried  to  take  my  young  lion 
in  her  pitfall,  and  has  fallen  into  the  midst  of  it  her- 
self ; and  he  is  safe,  and  returned  to  take  the  nations 
for  a prey,  and  grind  their  bones  to  powder,  as  it  is 
written,  'he  crouched  like  a lion,  he  lay  down  like  a 
lioness's  whelp,  and  who  dare  rouse  him  up  ? ' " 

"Stop!"  said  Raphael.  "I  must  speak!  Mother!  I 
must ! As  you  love  me,  as  you  expect  me  to  love  you, 
answer ! Had  you  a hand  in  her  death  ? Speak ! " 

“ Did  I not  tell  you  that  I was  no  more  a Christian  ? 
Had  I remained  one — who  can  tell  what  I might  not 
have  done  ? All  I,  the  Jewess,  dare  do  was — Fool  that 
I am — I have  forgotten  all  this  time  the  proof — the 
proof " 

" I need  no  proof,  mother.  Your  words  are  enough," 


618 


HYPATIA. 


said  Raphael,  as  he  clasped  her  hand  between  his  own, 
and  pressed  it  to  his  burning'  forehead.  But  the  old 
woman  hurried  on — “ See ! See  the  black  agate  which 
you  gave  her  in  your  madness!” 

“How  did  you  obtain  that  ?” 

“ I stole  it,  stole  it,  my  son;  as  thieves  steal,  and  are 
crucified  for  sealing.  What  was  the  chance  of  the 
cross  to  a mother  yearning  for  her  child  ? — to  a mother 
who  put  round  her  baby's  neck,  three  and  thirty  black 
years  ago,  that  broken  agate,  and  kept  the  other  half 
next  her  own  heart  by  day  and  night ! See ! See  how 
they  fit!  Look,  and  believe  your  poor  old  sinful 
mother ! Look,  I say ! ” and  she  thrust  the  talisman 
into  his  hands. 

“Now,  let  me  die!  I vowed  never  to  tell  this  secret 
but  to  you : never  to  tell  it  to  you,  until  the  night  I 
died.  Farewell,  my  son.  Kiss  me  but  once — once,  my 
child,  my  J03J  Oh,  this  makes  up  for  all!  Makes  up 
even  for  that  day,  the  last  on  which  I ever  dreamed 
myself  the  bride  of  the  Nazarene!” 

Raphael  felt  that  he  must  speak,  now  or  never. 
Though  it  cost  him  the  loss  of  all  his  wealth,  and  a 
mother's  curse,  he  must  speak.  And  not  daring  to 
look  up,  he  said  gently — 

“ Men  have  lied  to  you  about  Him  mother : but  has 
He  ever  lied  to  you  about  Himself  ? He  did  not  lie 
to  me  when  He  sent  me  out  into  the  world  to  find  a 
man,  and  sent  me  back  again  to  you  with  the  good 
news  that  The  Man  is  born  into  the  world.” 

But  to  his  astonishment,  instead  of  the  burst  of 
bigoted  indignation  which  he  had  expected,  Miriam 
answered  in  a low,  confused,  abstracted  voice — 

“And  did  He  send  you  hither?  Well  — that  was 
more  like  what  I used  to  fancy  Him.  ...  A grand 
thought  it  is  after  all — a Jew,  the  king  of  heaven  and 


HYPATIA. 


619 


earth!  . . . Well — I shall  know  soon.  . . . I loved  Him 
once,  . . . and  perhaps  . . . perhaps.  . . . ” 

Why  did  her  head  drop  heavily  upon  his  shoulder  ? 
He  turned — a dark  stream  of  blood  was  flowing-  from 
her  lips ! He  sprang  to  his  feet.  The  girls  rushed  in. 
They  torn  open  her  shawl  and  saw  the  ghastly  wound, 
which  she  had  hidden  with  such  iron  resolution  to  the 
last.  But  it  was  too  late.  Miriam  the  daughter  of 

Solomon  was  gone  to  her  own  place. 

* * * * * * 

Early  the  next  morning,  Raphael  was  standing  in 
Cyril’s  anteroom,  awaiting  an  audience.  There  were 
loud  voices  within;  and  after  awhile  a tribune,  whom 
he  knew  well,  hurried  out,  muttering  curses — 

“ What  brings  you  here,  friend  ? ” said  Raphael. 

“ The  scoundrel  will  not  give  them  up,”  answered  he, 
in  an  undertone. 

“ Gfive  up  whom  ? ” 

“ The  murderers.  They  are  in  sanctuary  now  at  the 
Csesareum.  Orestes  sent  me  to  demand  them;  and 
this  fellow  defies  him  openly ! ” And  the  tribune  hur- 
ried out. 

Raphael,  sickened  with  disgust,  half  turned  to  follow 
him,  but  his  better  angel  conquered,  and  he  obeyed  the 
summons  of  the  deacon  who  ushered  him  in. 

Cyril  was  walking  up  and  down,  according  to  his 
custom,  with  great  strides.  When  he  saw  who  was 
his  visitor,  he  stopped  short  with  a look  of  fierce  in- 
quiry. Raphael  entered  on  business  at  once,  with  a 
cold  calm  voice. 

“ You  know  me,  doubtless;  and  you  know  what  I 
was.  I am  now  a Christian  catechumen.  I come  to 
make  such  restitution  as  I can  for  certain  past  ill-deeds 
done  in  this  city.  You  will  find  among  these  papers 
the  trust-deeds  for  such  a yearly  sum  of  money  as  will 


620 


HYPATIA. 


enable  you  to  hire  a house  of  refuge  for  a hundred 
fallen  women,  and  give  such  dowries  to  thirty  of  them 
yearly  as  will  enable  them  to  find  suitable  husbands. 
I have  set  down  every  detail  of  my  plan.  On  its  exact 
fulfilment  depends  the  continuance  of  my  gift.” 

Cyril  took  the  document  eagerly,  and  was  breaking 
out  with  some  commonplace  about  pious  benevolence, 
when  the  Jew  stopped  him. 

“Your  holiness’s  compliments  are  unnecessary.  It 
is  to  your  office,  not  to  yourself,  that  this  business  re- 
lates.” 

Cyril,  whose  conscience  was  ill  enough  at  ease  that 
morning,  felt  abashed  before  Raphael’s  dry  and  quiet 
manner,  which  bespoke,  as  he  well  knew,  reproof  more 
severe  than  all  open  upbraidings.  So  looking  down, 
not  without  something  like  a blush,  he  ran  his  eye 
hastily  over  the  paper;  and  then  said,  in  his  blandest 
tone — 

“ My  brother  will  forgive  me  for  remarking,  that 
while  I acknowledge  his  perfect  right  to  dispose  of  his 
charities  as  he  will,  it  is  somewhat  startling  to  me,  as 
Metropolitan  of  Egypt,  to  find,  not  only  the  Abbot  Isi- 
dore of  Pelusium,  but  the  secular  Defender  of  the  Plebs, 
a civil  officer,  implicated,  too,  in  the  late  conspiracy, 
associated  with  me  as  co- trustee.” 

“ I have  taken  the  advice  of  more  than  one  Christian 
bishop  on  the  matter.  I acknowledge  your  authority 
by  my  presence  here.  If  the  Scriptures  say  rightly, 
the  civil  magistrates  are  as  much  God’s  ministers  as 
you;  and  I am  therefore  bound  to  acknowledge  their 
authority  also.  I should  have  preferred  associating 
the  prefect  with  you  in  the  trust : but  as  your  dissen- 
sions with  the  present  occupant  of  that  post  might 
have  crippled  my  scheme,  I have  named  the  Defender 
of  the  Plebs,  and  have  already  put  into  his  hands  a 


HYPATIA. 


621 


copy  of  this  document.  Another  copy  has  been  sent 
to  Isidore,  who  is  empowered  to  receive  all  moneys 
from  my  Jewish  bankers  in  Pelusium.” 

“ You  doubt,  then,  either  my  ability  or  my  honesty  ? ” 
said  Cyril,  who  was  becoming-  somewhat  nettled. 

“ If  your  holiness  dislikes  my  offer,  it  is  easy  to  omit 
your  name  in  the  deed.  One  word  more.  If  you  de- 
liver up  to  justice  the  murderers  of  my  friend,  Hypatia, 
I double  my  bequest  on  the  spot.” 

Cyril  burst  out  instantly — 

“ Thy  money  perish  with  thee ! Do  you  presume  to 
bribe  me  into  delivering-  up  my  children  to  the  tyrant  ? ” 
“I  offer  to  g-ive  you  the  means  of  showing-  more 
mercy,  provided  that  you  wilf  first  do  simple  justice.” 
“Justice?”  cried  Cyril.  “Justice?  If  it  be  just 
that  Peter  should  die,  sir,  see  first  whether  it  was  nob 
just  that  Hypatia  should  die.  Not  that  I compassed 
it.  As  I live,  I would  have  given  my  own  right  hand 
that  this  had  not  happened ! But  now  that  it  is  done 
— let  those  who  talk  of  justice  look  first  in  which  scale 
of  the  balance  it  lies!  Do  you  fancy,  sir,  that  the 
people  do  not  know  their  enemies  from  their  friends  ? 
Do  you  fancy  that  they  are  to  sit  with  folded  hands, 
while  a pedant  makes  common  cause  with  a profligate, 
to  drag  them  back  again  into  the  very  black  gulf  of 
outer  darkness,  ignorance,  brutal  lust,  grinding  slav- 
ery, from  which  the  Son  of  God  died  to  free  them,  from 
which  they  are  painfully  and  slowly  struggling  up- 
ward to  the  light  of  day  ? You,  sir,  if  you  be  a Chris- 
tian catechumen,  should  know  for  yourself  what  would 
have  been  the  fate  of  Alexandria  had  the  devil's  plot 
of  two  days  since  succeeded.  What  if  the  people 
struck  too  fiercely  ? They  struck  in  the  right  place. 
What  if  they  had  given  the  reins  to  passions  fit  only 
for  heathens  ? Recollect  the  centuries  of  heathendom 


622 


HYPATIA. 


which  bred  those  passions  in  them,  and  blame  not  my 
teaching-,  but  the  teaching  of  their  forefathers.  That 
very  Peter.  . . . What  if  he  have  for  once  given  place 
to  the  devil,  and  avenged  where  he  should  have  for- 
given ? Has  he  no  memories  which  may  excuse  him 
for  fancying,  in  a just  paroxysm  of  dread,  that  idola- 
try and  falsehood  must  be  crushed  at  any  risk  ? He 
who  counts  back  for  now  three  hundred  years,  in  per- 
secution after  persecution,  martyrs,  sir!  martyrs — if 
you  know  what  that  word  implies — of  his  own  blood 
and  kin;  who,  when  he  was  but  a seven  years*  boy, 
saw  his  own  father  made  a sightless  cripple  to  this 
day,  and  his  elder  sister,  a consecrated  nun,  devoured 
alive  by  swine  in  the  open  streets,  at  the  hands  of  those 
who  supported  the  very  philosophy,  the  very  gods, 
which  Hypatia  attempted  yesterday  to  restore.  God 
shall  judge  such  a man;  not  I,  nor  you!” 

"Let  God  judge  him,  then,  by  delivering  him  to 
God’s  minister.” 

" God’s  minister  ? That  heathen  and  apostate  pre- 
fect ? When  he  has  expiated  his  apostasy  by  penance, 
and  returned  publicly  to  the  bosom  of  the  church,  it 
will  be  time  enough  to  obey  him : till  then  he  is  the 
minister  of  none  but  the  devil.  And  no  ecclesiastic 
shall  suffer  at  the  tribunal  of  an  infidel.  Holy  Writ 
forbids  us  to  go  to  law  before  the  unjust.  Let  the 
world  say  of  me  what  it  will.  I defy  it  and  its  rulers. 
I have  to  establish  the  kingdom  of  God  in  this  city, 
and  do  it  I will,  knowing  that  other  foundation  can  no 
man  lay  than  that  which  is  laid,  which  is  Christ.” 

"Wherefore  you  proceed  to  lay  it  afresh.  A curious 
method  of  proving  that  it  is  laid  already.” 

" What  do  you  mean  ? ” asked  Cyril,  angrily. 

" Simply  that  God’s  kingdom,  if  it  exists  at  all,  must 
be  a sort  of  kingdom,  considering  Who  is  the  King  of 


HYPATIA. 


623 


it,  which  would  have  established  itself  without  your 
help  some  time  since:  probably,  indeed,  if  the  Scrip- 
tures of  nry  Jewish  forefathers  are  to  be  believed, 
before  the  foundation  of  the  world:  and  that  your 
business  was  to  believe  that  God  was  King-  of  Alexan- 
dria, and  had  put  the  Roman  law  there  to  crucify  all 
murderers,  ecclesiastics  included,  and  that  crucified 
they  must  be  accordingly,  as  high  as  Hainan  himself.” 
"I  will  hear  no  more  of  this,  sir!  I am  responsible 
to  God  alone,  and  not  to  you;  let  it  be  enough  that  by 
virtue  of  the  authority  committed  to  me  I shall  cut  off 
these  men  from  the  church  of  God,  by  solemn  excom- 
munication, for  three  years  to  come.” 

"They  are  not  cut  off,  then,  it  seems,  as  yet  ?” 

“ I tell  you,  sir,  that  I shall  cut  them  off.  Do  you 
come  here  to  doubt  my  word  ? ” 

“Not  in  the  least,  most  august  sir.  But  I should 
have  fancied  that,  according  to  my  carnal  notions  of 
God’s  Kingdom  and  the  Church,  they  had  cut  off 
themselves  most  effectually  already,  from  the  moment 
when  they  cast  away  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  took  to 
themselves  the  spirit  of  murder  and  cruelty;  and  that 
all  which  your  most  just  and  laudable  excommunica- 
tion could  effect,  would  be  to  inform  the  public  of  that 
fact.  However,  farewell ! My  money  shall  be  forth- 
coming in  due  time;  and  that  is  the  most  important 
matter  between  us  at  this  moment.  As  for  your  client, 
Peter  and  his  fellows,  perhaps  the  most  fearful  punish- 
ment which  can  befall  them,  is  to  go  on  as  they  have 
begun.  I only  hope  that  you  will  not  follow  in  the 
same  direction.” 

“ I ? ” cried  Cyril,  trembling  with  rage. 

“ Really,  I wish  your  holiness  well  when  I say  so.  If 
my  notions  seem  to  you  somewhat  secular,  yours — for- 
give me — seem  to  me  somewhat  atheistic;  and  I ad- 


624 


HYPATIA. 


vise  you  honestly  to  take  care  lest  while  3’ou  are  busy 
trying*  to  establish  God's  Kingdom,  you  forget  what 
it  is  like,  by  shutting  your  eyes  to  those  of  its  laws 
which  are  established  already.  I have  no  doubt  that 
with  your  holiness's  great  powers  you  will  succeed  in 
establishing  something.  My  only  dread  is,  that  when 
it  is  established,  you  should  discover  to  your  horror 
that  it  is  the  devil's  kingdom  and  not  God's." 

And  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  Raphael  bowed 
himself  out  of  the  august  presence,  and  sailing  for 
Berenice  that  very  day,  with  Eudaemon  and  his  negro 
wife,  went  to  his  own  place;  there  to  labor  and  to  suc- 
cor, a sad  and  stern,  and  yet  a loving  and  a much-loved 
man,  for  many  a year  to  come. 

And  now  we  will  leave  Alexandria  also,  and  taking 
a forward  leap  of  some  twenty  years,  see  how  all  other 
persons  mentioned  in  this  history  went,  likewise,  each 
to  his  own  place. 

* -*  * * * * 

A little  more  than  twenty  years  after,  the  wisest 
and  holiest  man  in  the  East  was  writing  of  Cyril,  just 
deceased — 

“His  death  made  those  who  survived  him  joyful; 
but  it  grieved  most  probably  the  dead ; and  there  is 
cause  to  fear,  lest,  finding  his  presence  too  trouble- 
some, they  should  send  him  back  to  us.  . . . May  it 
come  to  pass,  by  your  prayers,  that  he  may  obtain 
mercy  and  forgiveness,  that  the  immeasurable  grace 
of  God  may  prevail  over  his  wickedness ! " . . . 

So  wrote  Tlieodoret  in  days  when  men  had  not  yet 
intercalated  into  Holy  Writ  that  line  of  an  obscure 
modern  hymn,  which  proclaims  to  man  the  good  news 
that  “ There  is  no  repentance  in  the  grave."  Let  that 
be  as  it  may,  Cyril  has  gone  to  his  own  place.  What 
that  place  is  in  history  is  but  too  well  known.  What 


HYPATIA. 


625 


it  is  in  the  sight  of  Him  unto  whom  all  live  forever,  is 
no  concern  of  ours.  May  He  whose  mercy  is  over  all 
His  works,  have  mercy  upon  all,  whether  orthodox  or 
unorthodox.  Papist  or  Protestant,  who,  like  Cyril, 
begin  by  lying  for  the- cause  of  truth;  and  setting  off 
upon  that  evil  road,  arrive  surely,  with  the  Scribes 
and  Pharisees  of  old,  sooner  or  later,  at  their  own 
place. 

True,  he  and  his  monks  had  conquered ; hut  Hypatia 
did  not  die  unavenged.  In  the  hour  of  that  unrighteous 
victory,  the  Church  of  Alexandria  received  a deadly 
wound.  It  had  admitted  and  sanctioned  those  habits 
of  doing  evil  that  good  may  come,  of  pious  intrigue, 
and  at  last  of  open  persecution,  which  are  certain  to 
creep  in  wheresoever  men  attempt  to  set  up  a merely 
religious  empire,  independent  of  human  relationships 
and  civil  laws;  to  “establish,”  in  short,  a “theocracy,” 
and  by  that  very  act  confess  a secret  disbelief  that 
God  is  ruling  already.  And  the  Egyptian  Church 
grew,  year  by  year,  more  lawless  and  inhuman.  Freed 
from  enemies  without,  and  from  the  union  which  fear 
compels,  it  turned  its  ferocity  inward,  to  prey  on  its 
own  vitals,  and  to  tear  itself  in  pieces  by  a voluntary 
suicide,  with  mutual  anathemas  and  exclusions,  till  it 
ended  as  a mere  chaos  of  idolatrous  sects,  persecuting 
each  other  for  metaphysical  propositions,  which,  true 
or  false,  were  equally  heretical  in  their  mouths,  be- 
cause they  used  them  only  as  watchwords  of  division. 
Orthodox  or  unorthodox,  they  knew  not  God,  for  they 
knew  neither  righteousness,  nor  love,  nor  peace.  . . . 
They  “ hated  their  brethren,  and  walked  on  still  in 
darkness,  not  knowing  whither  they  were  going,”  . , . 
till  Amrou  and  his  Mahommedans  appeared;  and 
whether  they  discovered  the  fact  or  not,  they  went  to 
their  own  place.  . . . 

40 


626 


HYPATIA. 


Though  the  mills  of  God  grind  slowly,  yet  they  grind  exceed- 
ing small  : 

Though  He  stands  and  waits  with  patience,  with  exactness 
grinds  He  all — 

And  so  found,  in  due  time,  the  philosophers  as  well 
as  the  ecclesiastics  of  Alexandria. 

Twenty  years  after  Hypatia’s  death,  philosophy  was 
flickering*  down  to  the  very  socket.  H}Tpatia’s  murder 
was  its  deathblow.  In  language  tremendous  and  un- 
mistakable, philosophers  had  been  informed  that  man- 
kind had  done  with  them;  that  they  had  been  weighed 
in  the  balances,  and  found  wanting;  that  if  they  had 
no  better  Gospel  than  that  to  preach,  they  must  make 
way  for  those  who  had.  And  they  did  make  way. 
We  hear  little  or  nothing  of  them  or  their  wisdom 
henceforth,  except  at  Athens,  where  Proclus,  Marinus, 
Isidore,  and  others  kept  up  “ the  g'olden  chain  of  the 
Platonic  succession,”  and  descended  deeper  and  deeper, 
one  after  the  other,  into  the  realms  of  confusion — con- 
fusion of  the  material  with  the  spiritual,  of  the  subject 
with  the  object,  the  moral  with  the  intellectual;  self- 
consistent  in  one  thing  only- — namely,  in  their  exclu- 
sive Pharisaism;  utterly  unable  to  proclaim  any  good 
news  for  man  as  man,  or  even  to  conceive  of  the  possi- 
bility of  such,  and  gradually  looking  with  more  and 
more  complacency  on  all  superstitions  which  did  not 
involve  that  one  idea,  which  alone  they  hated— 
namely,  the  incarnation;  craving  after  signs  and  won- 
ders, dabbling  in  magic,  astrology,  and  barbarian 
fetichisms;  bemoaning  the  fallen  age,  and  barking 
querulously  at  every  form  of  human  thought  except 
their  own;  writing  pompous  biographies,  full  of  bad 
Greek,  worse  taste,  and  still  worse  miracles.  , . . 

That  last  drear  inood 

Of  envious  sloth,  and  proud  decrepitude  ; 


HYPATIA. 


627 


No  faith,  no  art,  no  king,  no  priest,  no  God  ; 

While  round  the  freezing  founts  of  life  in  snarling  ring, 
Crouched  on  the  bare  worn  sod, 

Babbling  about  the  unreturning  spring, 

And  whining  for  dead  gods,  who  cannot  save, 

The  toothless  systems  shiver  to  their  grave. 

The  last  scene  of  their  tragedy  was  not  without  a 
touch  of  pathos.  ...  In  the  year  529,  Justinian  finally 
closed,  by  imperial  edict,  the  schools  of  Athens.  They 
had  nothing  more  to  tell  the  world,  but  what  the  world 
had  yawned  over  a thousand  times  before : why  should 
they  break  the  blessed  silence  by  any  more  such  noises  ? 
The  philosophers  felt  so  themselves.  They  had  no 
mind  to  be  martyrs,  for  they  had  nothing  for  which  to 
testify.  They  had  no  message  for  mankind,  and  man- 
kind no  interest  for  them.  All  that  was  left  for  them 
was  to  take  care  of  their  own  souls;  and  fancying  that 
they  saw  something  like  Plato’s  ideal  republic  in  the 
pure  monotheism  of  the  Guebres,  their  philosophic 
emperor  the  Khozroo,  and  his  holy  caste  of  magi,  seven 
of  them  set  off  to  Persia,  to  forget  the  hateful  existence 
of  Christianity  in  that  realized  ideal.  Alas  for  the 
facts!  The  purest  monotheism  they  discovered,  was 
perfectly  compatible  with  bigotry  and  ferocity,  luxury 
and  tyranny,  serails  and  bowstrings,  incestuous  mar- 
riages, and  corpses  exposed  to  the  beasts  of  the  fields 
and  the  fowls  of  the  air;  and  in  reasonable  fear  for 
their  own  necks,  the  last  seven  Sages  of  Greece  re- 
turned home  weary-hearted,  into  the  Christian  Empire 
from  which  they  had  fled,  fully  contented  with  the 
permission,  which  the  Khozroo  had  obtained  for  them 
from  Justinian,  to  hold  their  peace  and  die  among  de- 
cent people.  So  among  decent  people  they  died,  leav- 
ing behind  them,  as  their  last  legacy  to  mankind,  Sim- 
plicius’s Commentaries  on  Epictetus’s  Enchiridion,  an 


628 


HYPATIA. 


essay  on  the  art  of  egotism,  by  obeying  which,  whoso- 
ever list  may  become  as  perfect  a Pharisee  as  ever 
darkened  the  earth  of  God.  Peace  be  to  their  ashes ! 
. . . They  are  gone  to  their  own  place. 

❖ # -ft  ^ 

Wulf,  too,  had  gone  to  his  own  place,  wheresoever 
that  may  be.  He  died  in  Spain,  full  of  years  and 
honors,  at  the  court  of  Adolf  and  Placidia,  having  re- 
signed his  sovereignty  into  the  hands  of  his  lawful 
chieftain  and  having  lived  long  enough  to  see  Goderic 
and  his  younger  companions  in  arms,  settled  with  their 
Alexandrian  brides  upon  the  sunny  slopes  from  which 
they  had  expelled  the  Vandals  and  the  Suevi,  to  be  the 
ancestors  of  “ bluest  blood  ” Castilian  nobles.  Wulf 
died,  as  he  had  lived,  a heathen.  Placidia,  who  loved 
him  well,  as  she  loved  all  righteous  and  noble  souls, 
had  succeeded  once  in  persuading  him  to  accept  bap- 
tism. Adolf  himself  acted  as  one  of  his  sponsors;  and 
the  old  warrior  was  in  the  act  of  stepping  into  the 
font,  when  he  turned  suddenly  to  the  bishop,  and  asked 
where  were  the  souls  of  his  heathen  ancestors ! “ In 

hell,”  replied  the  worthy  prelate.  Wulf  drew  back 
from  the  font,  and  drew  his  bearskin  cloak  around 
him.  . . . “He  would  prefer,  if  Adolf  had  no  objec- 
tions, to  go  to  his  own  people.”  * And  so  he  died  un- 
baptized, and  went  to  his  own  place. 

Victoria  was  still  alive  and  busy:  but  Augustine’s 
warning  had  come  true — she  had  found  trouble  in  the 
flesh.  The  day  of  the  Lord  had  come  and  Vandal 
tyrants  were  now  the  masters  of  the  fair  cornlands  of 
Africa.  Her  father  and  brother  were  lying  by  the 
side  of  Raphael  Aben-Ezra,  beneath  the  ruined  walls 
of  Hippo,  slain,  long  years  before,  in  the  vain  attempt 


* A fact. 


HYPATIA. 


629 


to  deliver  their  country  from  the  invading*  swarms. 
But  they  had  died  the  death  of  heroes;  and  Victoria 
was  content.  And  it  was  whispered,  among*  the  down- 
trodden Catholics,  who  clung*  to  her  as  an  ang*el  of 
mercy,  that  she,  too,  had  endured  strang*e  misery  and 
disgrace;  that  her  delicate  limbs  bore  the  scars  of 
fearful  tortures;  that  a room  in  her  house,  into  which 
none  ever  entered  but  herself,  contained  a young*  boy's 
grave,  and  that  she  passed  long  nights  of  prayer  upon 
the  spot,  where  lay  her  only  child,  martyred  by  the 
hands  of  Arian  persecutors.  Nay,  some  of  the  few, 
who,  having  dared  to  face  that  fearful  storm,  had  sur- 
vived its  fury,  asserted  that  she  herself,  amid  her  own 
shame  and  agony,  had  cheered  the  shrinking*  boy  on 
to  his  glorious  death.  But  though  she  had  found 
trouble  in  the  flesh,  her  spirit  knew  none.  Clear-eyed 
and  joyful  as  when  she  walked  by  her  father's  side  on 
the  field  of  Ostia,  she  went  to  and  fro  among  the  vic- 
tims of  Vandal  rapine  and  persecution,  spending  upon 
the  maimed,  the  sick,  the  ruined,  the  small  remnants 
of  her  former  wealth,  and  winning,  by  her  purity  and 
her  piety,  the  reverence  and  favor  even  of  the  barbarian 
conquerors.  She  had  her  work  to  do,  and  she  did  it, 
and  was  content;  and,  in  good  time,  she  also  went  to 
her  own  place. 

Abbot  Pam  bo,  as  well  as  Arsenius,  had  been  dead 
several  years;  the  abbot's  place  was  filled,  by  his  own 
dying  command,  by  a hermit  from  the  neighboring 
deserts,  who  had  made  himself  famous  for  many  miles 
round,  by  his  extraordinary  austerities,  his  ceaseless 
prayers,  his  loving  wisdom,  and,  it  was  rumored,  by 
various  cures  which  could  only  be  attributed  to  mir- 
aculous powers.  While  still  in  the  prime  of  his  man- 
hood, he  was  dragged,  against  his  own  entreaties,  from 
a lofty  cranny  of  the  cliffs  to  preside  over  the  Laura 


630 


HYPATIA. 


of  Scetis,  and  ordained  a deacon  at  the  advice  of 
Pambo,  by  the  bishop  of  the  diocese,  who,  three  years 
afterward,  took  on  himself  to  command  him  to  enter 
the  priesthood.  The  elder  monks  considered  it  an  in- 
dignity to  be  ruled  by  so  young  a man;  but  the  mon- 
astery throve  and  grew  rapidly  under  his  government. 
His  sweetness,  patience,  and  humility,  and  above  all, 
his  marvellous  understanding’  of  the  doubts  and  temp- 
tations of  his  own  generation,  soon  drew  around  him 
all  whose  sensitiveness  or  way  wardness  had  made  them 
unmanageable  in  the  neighboring’  monasteries.  As  to 
David  in  the  mountains,  so  to  him,  every  one  who  was 
discontented,  and  every  one  who  was  oppressed,  gath- 
ered themselves.  The  neighboring  abbots  were  at  first 
inclined  to  shrink  from  him,  as  one  who  ate  and  drank 
with  publicans  and  sinners;  but  they  held  their  peace 
when  they  saw  those  whom  they  had  driven  out  as 
reprobates  laboring  peacefully  and  cheerfully  under 
Philammon.  The  elder  generation  of  Scetis,  too,  saw, 
with  some  horror,  the  new  influx  of  sinners;  but  their 
abbot  had  but  one  answer  to  their  remonstrances, 
“ Those  who  are  whole  need  not  a physician,  but  those 
who  are  sick.” 

Never  was  the  young  abbot  heard  to  speak  harshly 
of  any  human  being.  “When  thou  hast  tried  in 
vain  for  seven  years,”  he  used  to  say,  “ to  convert  a 
sinner,  then  only  wilt  thou  have  a right  to  suspect 
him  of  being  a worse  man  than  thyself.”  That  there 
is  a seed  of  good  in  all  men,  a divine  Word  and 
Spirit  striving  with  all  men,  a gospel  and  good  news 
which  would  turn  the  hearts  of  all  men,  if  abbots 
and  priests  could  but  preach  it  aright,  was  his  fa- 
vorite doctrine,  and  one  which  he  used  to  defend, 
when,  at  rare  intervals,  he  allowed  himself  to  discuss 
any  subject,  from  the  writings  of  his  favorite  theolo- 


HYPATIA. 


631 


gian,  Clement  of  Alexandria.  Above  all,  he  stopped, 
b}T  stern  rebuke,  any  attempt  to  revile  either  heretics 
or  heathens.  “On  the  Catholic  Church  alone,”  he 
used  to  say,  “lies  the  blame  of  all  heresy  and  unbelief: 
for  if  she  were  but  for  one  day  that  which  she  ought 
to  be,  the  world  would  be  converted  before  nightfall.” 
To  one  class  of  sins,  indeed,  he  was  inexorable — all  but 
ferocious;  to  the  sins,  namely,  of  religious  persons.  In 
proportion  to  any  man’s  reputation  for  orthodoxy  and 
sanctity,  Philammon’s  judgment  of  him  was  stern  and 
pitiless.  More  than  once  events  proved  him  to  have 
been  unjust:  when  he  saw  himself  to  be  so,  none  could 
confess  his  mistake  more  frankly  or  humiliate  himself 
for  it  more  bitterly;  but  from  his  rule  he  never 
swerved;  and  the  Pharisees  of  the  Nile  dreaded  and 
avoided  him,  as  much  as  the  publicans  and  sinners 
loved  and  followed  him. 

One  thing  only  in  his  conduct  gave  some  handle  for 
scandal  among  the  just  persons  who  needed  no  repent- 
ance. It  was  well  known  that  in  his  most  solemn  de- 
votions, on  those  long  nights  of  unceasing  prayer  and 
self-discipline,  which  won  him  a reputation  for  super- 
human sanctity,  there  mingled  always  with  his  prayers 
the  names  of  two  women.  And,  when  some  worthy 
elder,  taking  courage  from  his  years,  dared  to  hint 
kindly  to  him  that  such  conduct  caused  some  scandal 
to  the  weaker  brethren,  “It  is  true,”  answered  he; 
“ tell  my  brethren  that  I pray  nightly  for  two  women : 
both  of  them  young;  both  of  them  beautiful;  both  of 
them  beloved  by  me  more  than  I love  my  own  soul; 
and  tell  them,  moreover,  that  one  of  the  two  was  a 
harlot,  and  the  other  a heathen.”  The  old  monk  laid 
his  hand  on  his  mouth,  and  retired. 

The  remainder  of  his  history  it  seems  better  to  ex- 
tract from  an  unpublished  fragment  of  the  Hagiologia 


632 


HYPATIA. 


Nilotica  of  Graidiocolosyrtus  Tabenniticus,  the  greater 
part  of  which  valuable  work  was  destroyed  at  the 
taking  of  Alexandria  under  Amrou,  a.d.  640. 

aNow,  when  the  said  abbot  had  ruled  the  monastery 
of  Scetis  seven  years  with  uncommon  prudence,  re- 
splendent in  virtue  and  in  miracles,  it  befell  that  one 
morning  he  was  late  for  the  divine  office.  Whereon  a 
certain  ancient  brother,  who  was  also  a deacon,  being 
sent  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  so  unwonted  a defection, 
found  the  holy  man  extended  upon  the  floor  of  his  cell, 
like  Balaam  in  the  flesh,  though  far  different  from 
him  in  the  spirit,  having  fallen  into  a trance,  but  hav- 
ing his  eyes  open.  Who,  not  daring  to  arouse  him,  sat 
by  him  until  the  hour  of  noon,  judging  rightly  that 
something  from  heaven  had  befallen  him.  And  at 
that  hour,  the  saint,  arising  without  astonishment, 
said,  ‘ Brother,  make  ready  for  me  the  divine  elements, 
that  I may  consecrate  them/  And  he  asking  the  rea- 
son wherefore,  the  saint  replied,  ‘ That  I may  partake 
thereof  with  all  my  brethren,  ere  I depart  hence. 
For  I know  assuredly  that,  within  the  seventh  day,  I 
shall  migrate  to  the  celestial  mansions.  For  this  night 
stood  by  me  in  a dream,  those  two  women,  whom  I 
love,  and  for  whom  I pray;  the  one  clothed  in  a white, 
the  other  in  a ruby-colored  garment,  and  holding  each 
other  by  the  hand;  who  said  to  me,  ‘That  life  after 
death  is  not  such  a one  as  you  fancy : come,  therefore, 
and  behold  with  us  what  it  is  like/  Troubled  at 
which  words,  the  deacon  went  forth : yet  on  account 
not  only  of  holy  obedience,  but  also  of  the  sanctity  of 
the  blessed  abbot,  did  not  hesitate  to  prepare  accord- 
ing to  his  command  the  divine  elements;  which  the 
abbot,  having  consecrated,  distributed  among  his 
brethren,  reserving  only  a portion  of  the  most  holy 
bread  and  wine;  and  then,  having  bestowed  on  them 


HYPATIA. 


633 


all  the  kiss  of  peace,  he  took  the  paten  and  chalice  in 
his  hands,  and  went  forth  from  the  monastery  toward 
the  desert;  whom  the  whole  fraternity  followed  weep- 
ing-, as  knowing  that  they  should  see  his  face  no  more. 
But  he,  having  arrived  at  the  foot  of  a certain  moun- 
tain, stopped,  and  blessing  them,  commanded  them 
that  they  should  follow  him  no  farther,  and  dismissed 
them  with  these  words:  ‘As  ye  have  been  loved,  so 
love.  As  ye  have  been  judged,  so  judge.  As  ye  have 
been  forgiven,  so  forgive/  And  so  ascending,  was 
taken  away  from  their  eyes.  Now  they,  returning 
astonished,  watched  three  days  with  prayer  and  fast- 
ing: but  at  last  the  eldest  brother,  being  ashamed, 
like  Elisha  before  the  entreaties  of  Elijah's  disciples, 
sent  two  of  the  young  men  to  seek  their  master. 

“To  whom  befell  a thing  noteworthy  and  full  of 
miracles.  For  ascending  the  same  mountain  where 
they  had  left  the  abbot,  they  met  with  a certain 
Moorish  people,  not  averse  to  the  Christian  verity, 
who  declared  that  certain  days  before  a priest  had 
passed  by  them,  bearing  a paten  and  chalice,  and 
blessing  them  in  silence,  proceeded  across  the  desert 
in  the  direction  of  the  cave  of  the  holy  Amma. 

“And  they  inquiring  who  this  Amma  might  be,  the 
Moors  answered  that  some  twenty  years  ago  there 
had  arrived  in  those  mountains  a woman  more  beauti- 
ful than  had  ever  before  been  seen  in  that  region, 
dressed  in  rich  garments;  who,  after  a short  sojourn 
among  their  tribe,  having  distributed  among  them 
the  jewels  which  she  wore,  had  embraced  the  eremitic 
life,  and  sojourned  upon  the  highest  peak  of  a neigh- 
boring mountain;  till,  her  garments  failing  her,  she 
became  invisible  to  mankind,  saving  to  a few  women 
of  the  tribe,  who  went  up  from  time  to  time  to  carry 
her  offerings  of  fruit  and  meal,  and  to  ask  the  bless- 


634 


HYPATIA. 


ing*  of  her  prayers.  To  whom  she  rarely  appeared, 
veiled  down  to  her  feet  in  black  hair  of  exceeding 
length  and  splendor. 

“ Hearing  these  things,  the  two  brethren  doubted 
for  awhile : but  at  last,  determining  to  proceed,  arrived 
at  sunset  upon  the  summit  of  the  said  mountain. 

“ Where,  behold,  a great  miracle.  For  above  an 
open  grave,  freshly  dug  in  the  sand,  a cloud  of  vultures 
and  obscene  birds  hovered,  whom  two  lions,  fiercely 
contending,  drove  away  with  their  talons  as  if  from 
some  sacred  deposit  therein  enshrined.  Toward  whom 
the  two  brethren,  fortifying  themselves  with  the  sign 
of  the  holy  cross,  ascended.  Whereupon  the  lions,  as 
having  fulfilled  the  term  of  their  guardianship,  retired; 
and  left  to  the  brethren  a sight  which  they  beheld 
with  astonishment,  and  not  without  tears. 

“ For  in  the  open  grave  lay  the  body  of  Philammon, 
the  abbot ; and  by  his  side,  wrapped  in  his  cloak,  the 
corpse  of  a woman  of  exceeding  beauty,  such  as  the 
Moors  had  described.  Whom  embracing  straitly,  as 
a brother  a sister,  and  joining  his  lips  to  hers,  he  had 
rendered  up  his  soul  to  God;  not  without  bestowing 
on  her,  as  it  seemed,  the  most  holy  sacrament;  for  by 
the  grave  side  stood  the  paten  and  the  chalice  emptied 
of  their  divine  contents. 

“H  aving  beheld  which  things  awhile  in  silence,  they 
considered  that  the  right  understanding  of  such  mat- 
ters pertained  to  the  judgment  seat  above,  and  was 
unnecessary  to  be  comprehended  by  men  consecrated 
to  God.  Whereon,  filling  in  the  grave  with  all  haste, 
they  returned  weeping  to  the  Laura,  and  declared  to 
them  the  strange  things  which  they  had  beheld,  and 
whereof  I,  the  writer,  having  collected  these  facts  from 
sacrosanct  and  most  trustworthy  mouths,  can  only 
say  that  wisdom  is  justified  of  all  her  children. 


HYPATIA. 


635 


“Now,  before  they  returned,  one  of  the  brethren, 
searching  the  cave  wherein  the  holy  woman  dwelt, 
found  there  neither  food,  furniture,  nor  other  matters; 
saving  one  bracelet  of  gold,  of  large  size  and  strange 
workmanship,  engraven  with  foreign  characters,  which 
no  one  could  decipher.  The  which  bracelet,  being 
taken  home  to  the  Laura  of  Scetis,  and  there  dedicated 
in  the  chapel  to  the  memory  of  the  holy  Amma,  proved 
beyond  all  doubt  the  sanctity  of  its  former  possessor, 
by  the  miracles  which  its  virtue  worked;  the  fame 
whereof  spreading  abroad  throughout  the  whole  The- 
baid,  drew  innumerable  crowds  of  suppliants  to  that 
holy  relic.  But  it  came  to  pass,  after  the  Yandalic 
persecution  wherewith  Huneric  and  Genseric  the  king 
devastated  Africa,  and  enriched  the  Catholic  Church 
with  innumerable  martyrs,  that  certain  wandering- 
barbarians  of  the  Yandalic  race,  imbued  with  the 
Arian  pravity,  and  made  insolent  by  success,  boiled 
over  from  the  parts  of  Mauritania  into  the  Thebaid 
region.  Who  plundering  and  burning  all  monasteries, 
and  insulting  the  consecrated  virgins,  at  last  arrived 
even  at  the  monastery  of  Scetis  where  they  not  only, 
according  to  their  impious  custom,  defiled  the  altar, 
and  carried  off  the  sacred  vessels,  but  also  bore  away 
that  most  holy  relic,  the  chief  glory  of  the  Laura, 
namely,  the  bracelet  of  the  holy  Amma,  impiously 
pretending  that  it  had  belonged  to  a warrior  of  their 
tribe,  and  thus  expounding  the  writing  thereon  en- 
graven— 

For  Amalric  Amal’s  Son  Smid  Tricoll’s  Son  Made  Me. 

Wherein,  whether  they  spoke  truth  or  not,  yet  their 
sacrilege  did  not  remain  unpunished;  for  attempting 
to  return  homeward  toward  the  sea  by  way  of  the 
Nile,  they  were  set  upon  while  weighed  down  with 


636 


HYPATIA. 


wine  and  sleep,  by  the  country  people,  and  to  a man 
miserably  destroyed.  But  the  pious  folk,  restoring 
the  holy  gold  to  its  pristine  sanctuary,  were  not  un- 
rewarded; for  since  that  day  it  grew  glorious  with 
ever  fresh  miracles — as  of  blind  restored  to  sight, 
paralytics  to  strength,  demoniacs  to  sanity — to  the 
honor  of  the  orthodox  Catholic  Church,  and  of  its  ever 
blessed  saints.” 

* * * * *.  * 

So  be  it.  Pelagia  and  Philammon,  like  the  rest,  went 
to  their  own  place;  to  the  only  place  where  such  in 
such  days  could  find  rest;  to  the  desert  and  the  her- 
mit's cell;  and  then  forward  into  that  fairy  land  of 
legend  and  miracle,  wherein  all  saintly  lives  were 
destined  to  be  enveloped  for  many  a century  thence- 
forth. 

And  now,  readers,  farewell.  I have  shown  you  New 
Foes  under  an  Old  Face — your  own  likeness  in  toga 
and  tunic,  instead  of  coat  and  bonnet.  One  word 
before  we  part.  The  same  devil  who  tempted  these 
old  Egyptians  tempts  you.  The  same  God  who  would 
have  saved  these  old  Egyptians  if  they  had  willed, 
will  save  3rou,  if  you  will.  Their  sins  are  yours,  their 
errors  yours,  their  doom  yours,  their  deliverance  yours. 
There  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun.  The  thing  which 
has  been,  it  is  that  which  shall  be.  Let  him  that  is 
without  sin  among  you  cast  the  first  stone,  whether 
at  Hypatia  or  Pelagia,  Miriam  or  Raphael,  Cyril  or 
Philammon. 


THE  END. 


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